Lake of Lost Souls
by Aussie Nightwriter
Summary: Sometimes, love is enough. Bruce comes to realize just how important his son is to him. Story complete. Thank you to all of those wonderful people who took the time to send feedback and especially those who joined me on the journey.
1. Chapter One

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.

* * *

** Part One **

The internal door swung inwards with such force it almost left its hinges. Dick Grayson exploded into the hospital corridor with long strides. Normally his gait was smooth, almost graceful like that of a dancer, or more accurately, an acrobat. Tonight, the pounding of his anger was echoed with the fall of each step.

Ahead, a man in a suit wearing a hip holster flexed his shoulders and moved to block the path of the jean and leather jacket clad man bearing down on him. Two other muscle bound bodyguards joined the first, watching the uninvited guest sporting a motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm march toward them.

"I'm sorry, Sir. This section of the hospital is restricted."

Grayson stared at the speaker, his face twitching with annoyance as he halted in front of the hired security. "I want to see Bruce Wayne."

"Sorry. Mr. Wayne is not receiving visitors."

The annoyance shifted, expanding to include Dick's anger. "'_No'_ visitors?" It was a growl forced out through his tightly clenched jaw. Surely Bruce had included his name on a list of people cleared for admission. Eyes of brilliant blue flashed with an intenseness all three bodyguards couldn't ignore. This one was going to be trouble each decided. The trio had been hired by Wayne Corp. to ensure the billionaire was not disturbed. So far, that hadn't been difficult. The reporters were now waiting downstairs and outside of redirecting a few curious members of the public, there had been little to do but drink coffee and play cards.

"Sir, I'm asking you to leave."

Dick flicked his eyes to the two men standing a step back and then returned them to the cretin blocking his path. The valve keeping his self-control in check moved one step closer to blowing. "Is Alfred here?"

"Mr. Pennyworth is with Mr. Wayne," the cretin replied carefully.

Dick, despite the bubbling of his emotions, felt a sense of relief. "May I speak with him?"

The guards exchanged a glance. One turned and disappeared down the corridor, stopping to speak to a uniformed policeman who then disappeared into a room.

Moments later, Alfred appeared, squinting at the figure some distance away. His eyes lit up with surprise and then concern as he recognised the 'biker'. Swiftly, he strode toward Dick.

"Master Dick. What are you... ?"

Dick shouldered past the security men, shot Alfred a look of irritation and headed toward Bruce's room. Behind him he heard shouts of 'stop', but Alfred's dulcet tones calmed the bodyguards quickly. When Dick arrived at the door, the policeman eyed him carefully and then smiled. "Mr. Grayson, isn't it?"

"Officer Turnbell," Dick acknowledged, remembering meeting the man once at some function at Wayne Corp. Turnbell opened the door and Dick stepped into the private room. Bruce was sitting up in bed dictating a letter to his secretary. Lucas, the only other occupant, greeted the newcomer warmly.

"Dick, it's good to see you." The younger man forced a smile and turned his attention to his former guardian. While pale, Bruce looked well. There was a drip attached to his arm but there was no sign of injury.

"... which will make negotiations difficult. It is for this reason that I..." Bruce appeared to notice Dick for the first time and nodded absentmindedly before continuing with his dictation.

Lucas drew Dick aside. "He wouldn't listen to me. I warned him, but you know what he's like." The elderly man's face was flushed with an equal amount of concern, guilt and exhaustion. He had been at his employer's side since the attack two days earlier.

Dick patted his shoulder. "I know how stubborn he can be. What do the doctors say?"

"That he's incredibly lucky. The knife slash is deep, but it missed everything important. Half an inch deeper and..." Lucas shook his head, running his trembling hand through his greying hair. He had been beside his employer when the assassin had leapt from the crowd. Bruce, despite the flood of death threats prior to the event, had refused to increase the number of bodyguards that usually accompanied him. Security had swooped quickly, but not before Bruce had been injured. Lucas had watched his friend stumble and then collapse, blood spreading across his lightly coloured suit. The personal assistant remembered screaming for an ambulance. Everything else was a blur of images and emotions.

"Please get that off today," Bruce ordered. The young woman nodded, smiled at Dick and then left the room.

Bruce and Dick's eyes met. Lucas, sensing the tension, excused himself. When the door closed behind him, the room was plunged into silence. Neither of the occupants appeared able to find voice. Finally, Bruce reached for the glass of water beside him, gripping his bandaged chest as he did so.

"I saw the attack coming but couldn't react as quickly as I would have liked. Too many television cameras." Bruce had done just enough to save his own life. Protecting his 'secret' had almost overridden his instinct to survive.

Dick shook his head. This hadn't been the first time Bruce had 'turned the other cheek' for the sake of Batman. Grayson, himself, had done it many times as a teenager. Then, he had found it frustrating. Deliberately missing out on being on the basketball team. Holding back in the gym. Allowing a bully to push him around for almost three years. Now, he understood the reason it was essential to keep his 'abilities' a secret, though allowing yourself to be stabbed was taking it too far.

"I should be out of here in a couple of days," Bruce continued. "Just being kept in as a precaution in case of infection. Lucas had me rushed here before I could do or say anything, otherwise I'd have contacted Leslie and let her deal with it. So, what brings you to Gotham?"

Dick's eyebrows drew down, his eyes narrowing. "I _read _in the _paper _that there was an assassination attempt on your life and that you were in hospital." The words were ground out. His anger rose again and threatened to ignite. There was silence for several uncomfortable seconds. "Why the hell didn't you call me?" Dick demanded. He remained several feet away from the bed. The physical distance echoed the emotional chasm between them.

Bruce shrugged. "Things haven't been convivial between us for some time. Last time we spoke we parted badly. I didn't think that..."

"You didn't...?! Christ, Bruce! I read about it in the paper! I had no idea of how badly you were hurt."

"Lower your voice," the older man ordered.

"Damn you!" At that moment, Alfred slipped into the room, locking the door behind him. Dick turned to the elderly man. "You couldn't find a phone?"

Alfred's wizened features flickered with deep feeling and then the mask of control fell into place. "Master Bruce felt there was no need to worry you."

Dick studied Alfred as the butler moved to stand beside the bed. "I can't believe you two. I thought that after last time..." ...last time. _Last time _when Bruce's back had been broken_. Last time _when Bruce had taken in another boy. _Last time _when Bruce had adopted that boy. _Last time _when Jason had been killed. _Last time _when no one had BOTHERED to let him know. Grayson turned to glare at the man who had taken him in after the murder of his parents. "Look, we had a disagreement, but that..."

"There was nothing to tell you. I'm fine. I will be home in a few days. Tim is looking after the city in my absence. Lucas is quite capable of doing anything needed for the company while I'm laid up. There was little sense disturbing you or burdening you with my problems. You have your own life. We have everything under control here."

Dick would like to have been stunned to by the clinical attitude his former guardian was displaying, but the sad thing was, he wasn't surprised. Bruce had become an emotionless shell so many years past that Dick barely remembered the animated person he used to swing though the night with - or were his memories now skewed with false reminiscences of what he would liked Bruce to have been like? No, the young man decided. Bruce had been different in the beginning. Dick wasn't sure exactly when the transformation had started, nor at what point he had realized it had been completed, but a transformation it had been. Gradually, over time, Bruce had shut the world out and that included even one of the few people he had shared his most prized secret with.

"There was no need for you to make the journey from Bludhaven. Like I said, I have everything under control."

"You're a real piece of work, Bruce." The anger resonating in Dick's voice was fuelled by other emotions, not the least of which was hurt.

"Did you come all this way to argue with me?" Wayne demanded. Again they stared at each other lost in an abyss of inexplicable emotions.

Alfred's aching heart cried out in pain. He had watched helplessly as these two men he loved like sons had drifted apart. He had watched horrified as they had come to, not only verbal, but physical blows. Devastated, he had accepted their estrangement from each other.

Dick drew in a deep breath, released it slowly and then turned for the door. Obviously, there was nothing else to be said. He had been dismissed... again. "If you need anything, you know how to contact me," he spat as he slammed out of the room.

Alfred sighed as his attention settled on Bruce. "That went well."

Wayne continued to stare at the door. Why did it always end like that these days?

"We should have called him," Alfred pointed out, taking the empty glass from Bruce. "He's angry because no one let him know you were hurt. That was what I was trying to tell you."

"There was no need to interrupt him. I'm fine. I have everything under control," Bruce responded, automatically.

"Of course. And you would feel there was no need for him to contact us if he was stabbed, in hospital and had everything under control?"

Bruce frowned, his emotions wallowing in confusion. As Nightwing and Batman they still shared the most unique of all understandings. They anticipated each other's movements and complimented each other completely. It was the perfect partnership without equal on the planet, though geographical distance had reduced the amount of time they combined their talents. These days, Nightwing mostly worked alone patrolling the streets of Bludhaven and Batman only called on his other partners sporadically to deal with Gotham's problems. Despite the extraordinary working bond Nightwing and Batman shared, the relationship between their alter egos was strained and dysfunctional.

"I don't know him any more, Alfred." The statement was hushed. It was almost an admission of failure. He no longer knew or understood the boy he had raised.

Alfred Pennyworth sank down into the chair beside the bed. Like Lucas, he felt incredibly weary having been at Bruce's side since he had been admitted. Alfred's voice lowered to an emotional whisper. "Master Dick is same young man who came to us fifteen years ago... confused, angry and mourning the loss of his father."

Wayne's frown deepened. "He came to terms with the death of his father a long time ago."

"He came to terms with the loss of John Grayson," Alfred agreed. Clearly, that had not been what he'd meant.

The look of undiluted rage in Bruce's face prevented the butler from commenting further. Rage? No, pain and bewilderment Alfred realized.

"Speak to him, Bruce. You need only..."

"I'm tired. I think I'll get some sleep."

Alfred shook his head. Bruce Wayne was one of the most capable men he'd ever met. Whether it be business, or engaging in his 'night job', Bruce was without peer. However, when it came to human relationships, the man who was Batman was about as effective as 'no smoking' signs.

Bruce lay down and shut his eyes, but an image of Dick's angry face replayed in his mind and refused to be dismissed. The abyss between them had grown another couple of inches tonight and Bruce honestly didn't know why.

PART TWO COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	2. Chapter Two

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much.

* * *

** Part Two **

Dick tossed his motorcycle helmet onto the faded blue couch and switched on the light of his small Bludhaven apartment. Immediately, a voice from across the room greeted him.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to contact you all night." Dick glanced at the computer sitting atop his desk in the corner. Barbara's pretty face filled the screen, her emerald eyes flinty with annoyance.

"Gotham," the young man answered, wearily.

Via the camera zapping video images across the globe, Barbara watched her friend disappear into the kitchen. His movements were slow and lethargic. By the look of it, his trip to Gotham had involved the usual emotional scene.

"You should have kept your communicator on. I can't be expected to..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" the disembodied voice interrupted. There was no sign of anger. It was an empty question that echoed in the untidy apartment.

He reappeared with a can of Coke, his handsome face demanding answers. "Tell you what exactly?" Barbara clarified.

"That there had been an assassination attempt on Bruce's life." Now the anger was evident.

Barbara frowned and adjusted her glasses. "You didn't know? I thought that he would have..."

Dick snorted and slumped onto the couch, his head dropping back and his eyes focusing on the ceiling. "Why the hell would he think to tell me? He had everything under control."

The hollowness of his voice caused Barbara's heart to twist. She hated seeing this and of late, she had been seeing it more and more. "Dick, I..." She didn't know what to say.

Grayson shut his eyes. He'd been in the cafeteria at the Police Academy when he'd spotted the page one headline, 'Gotham Billionaire Stabbed.' A phone call had failed to provide answers and so he'd raced to his bike and sped to the Gotham hospital unsure of what he was going to find. On the radio on the way down he'd heard a news announcement stating that Bruce was in a satisfactory condition. While relieved, he couldn't deny his anger at not being informed.

"Dick, it's his way. You can't let it get to you. Of all people you should be used to Bruce by now." When this failed to evoke a response, Barbara added, "He probably didn't want to disturb you. He knows you've got your hands full with Bludhaven and your cadetship." Still the bundle on the couch didn't move. "Dick?"

"I thought that after I filled in for him for a while things had changed but..." The weeks Dick had worn the cowl in Bruce's place had given him a greater insight into the pressures his former guardian faced in shouldering the mantle of Batman. Following the time, there hadn't actually been a 'thank you', but Bruce had said some of the things Dick had longed to hear. His mind drifted back to that moment in the Batcave...

_"Look, this is the part I'm not good at. You reached an age where you couldn't be the Boy Wonder anymore. You outgrew it. A distance grew between us. I left so many things unsaid. I handled it all wrong. But that's the way it always is, isn't it? Between fathers and sons."..._

At the time, Dick had been so stunned, words had failed him. It was everything and more than he had hoped to hear come from Bruce's lips, but that was where Dick had made the mistake. It hadn't been Bruce speaking. It had been Batman. While one person, the two personalities were kept separate and Dick had failed to realize which was speaking. Understandable really, considering the fact it was the first time in years either had opened up. Unfortunately, the words only reconciled the relationship between Nightwing and Batman. Batman had indeed come to realize that Nightwing had outgrown being the Boy Wonder and was stating that he was willing to work with the younger man as an equal partner... well, as equal as anyone could be to Batman. However, nothing had changed between Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne. The distance Bruce had spoken about was still there. Worse still, Bruce didn't approve of Dick's career choice. Rather like Hitler hadn't _approved _of the Jews. The disagreement had grown and pushed them further apart than ever before.

"Bruce doesn't cope well with change," Barbara whispered, interrupting Grayson's thoughts.

Dick's eyes opened and he dropped his chin to look at the screen across the room. "Huh?"

Barbara smiled. "He's a man. Men don't cope well with change."

Dick's face screwed up with mock disgust. "Please continue, Mrs. Freud."

He had come alive again and Barbara reflected not for the first time, on the fact that he one fine example of the opposite sex. Jet black hair that was never truly tidy these days because Alfred wasn't there to ensure it was combed and brilliant blue eyes which saw everything had melted more than their fair share of female hearts - hers included. "Seriously, Bruce has never coped well with change. Think about it."

"He trusted me more to watch his back when I was eight than he does now," Dick murmured.

"That's not true and you know it. Nightwing and Batman still work together like a well oiled machine. He trusts you implicitly. He has learned to handle Nightwing as his adult partner. What he can't handle is..." Barbara struggled to find the words..."is the fact that the little boy who showed him that there was more to life than seeking revenge nightly, grew up on him."

Dick frowned. A lot of what Barbara was saying he already knew. "I wee bit simplified, don't you think?"

"Maybe, but I think it's close to the mark. He loves you Dick, he just doesn't know how to show you now that you're an adult."

"It's not my fault I grew up, Babs."

"No, but he didn't cope. I, on the other hand, think you grew up very nicely, Short Pants." She flashed him a wide, seductive smile.

Dick winked at her. "Is that an invitation?"

"In your dreams," she laughed.

"You've got that right." Barbara blushed beautifully and Dick laughed. She had lifted his spirits, but then, she had that effect on him... always had. He had loved her from the moment he had laid eyes on her as an eight year old. He accepted it was more than a brother/sister relationship now, but he wasn't sure if she did. She had known of his crush on her when he was a teenager, but exactly where they stood these days was a mystery to him... probably to both of them, he decided.

Dick's mind returned briefly to Bruce. "Babs, can you look into the knife attack for me? If I do, he'll hit the roof. Just find out a bit about it. Lucas said there have been a number of death threats. Find out what it's in relation to and whether his fears are founded."

"Okay."

"I... I just wish Bruce and I could have a normal conversation. Hell, even if it's about football or girls or... I don't know." He rose to his feet. "I've got to get going."

"Hang on a minute," Barbara snapped. Her voice had taken on that quality a teacher's does when they disapprove of something a student is about to undertake.

Dick grinned. "Problem, pretty lady?"

"Let it go tonight."

"Wish I could but.."

"Your mind is so far from being on the job it isn't funny. You can't afford to be distracted out there on your own."

"I'll be fine. I can look after myself." He turned and disappeared into the bedroom, accompanied by Barbara's protests. When he reappeared moments later, he was dressed in his 'evening cloths'. The x suit, which moulded to his body, accentuated his perfectly muscled form.

"Damn it, Dick. You're not in the right mind for this tonight."

"What makes tonight any different? I spend my evenings with the most undesirable people on the planet. Lord knows what a psychiatrist would make of all of that." The quips that had littered his youth had followed him into his adulthood. It was his way of coping.

Barbara cursed. "You're getting more like him every day!"

This caused Dick to pause, his brow furrowing deeply. Such a thought terrified him. "In what way?"

"Nothing is more important than hunting down the next lowlife. The city can't survive without you. Sound familiar?" she spat.

Dick grinned, winked, walked toward the open window and disappeared into the darkness beyond calling, "Night, night, Mom."

"Lord, give me strength!"

In the penthouse apartment of one of Gotham's most exclusive hotels, a man dressed in a flashy red suit surveyed the city below. Once, this had been his city. Once, he had been important here. One man had ruined that and that man was going to pay.

Behind the figure at the window were two very nervous men sweating profusely. They only knew their employer as 'Mr. Smith', though both knew exactly who he was and thus they regarded him with a healthy amount of trepidation. This job had promised wealth beyond their wildest dreams. Unfortunately, the dream was quickly becoming a nightmare.

"I'm sorry, Sir. The assassination attempt failed."

"I do not accept failures." Mr. Smith's voice had a quality all of its own. Strained and yet cultured. He turned and the inhuman rage on his face caused both of his visitors to recoil. "The job was sloppy and amateurish. I am neither. I was informed that you were professionals."

"Of course, Sir. Sorry, Sir." The hired thugs exchanged a concerned look and then watched their employer move across to a wine cabinet and pour himself a drink.

"Have you dealt with the loose end?" Smith demanded, downing the contents.

"He has just been found hanging in his cell."

"Good. And...?" the threat hung in the air.

"We won't miss next time."

"Next time? Who said there was going to be a next time?" Smith asked grinning, his expression flashing with fiendish delight.

"But I thought you wanted Bruce Wayne dead?" A shadowy figure stepped out behind the two thugs. In his hand, he held a revolver. The weapon barked twice in quick succession and the hapless hired assassins took their last breaths.

Mr. Smith shrugged indifferently and returned his attention to the skyline. "I am sure you will not fail me, Mr. MacDonald."

"Wayne will be dead by the end of the week. I stake my life on it."

Mr. Smith glanced back over his shoulder and held his new employee's gaze. "That is exactly what you are doing."

For the second time in less than a week, Dick's motorcycle flashed down the highway to Gotham. The sun was arcing to the west and announcing the arrival of evening.

"Dick, you there?" Oracle's voice burst from the radio.

Grayson smiled. "Fire away, pretty lady."

"I have looked into the death threats Bruce received."

"Took your time."

"You are not the only person I source things for," she pointed out, her voice rising with irritation.

"Yeah, but I'm the cutest."

Barbara made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "No, you're the most annoying. It seems Bruce has upset a small group of environmentalist."

"Oh? Bruce is usually fairly environmentally conscious."

"Their claims are rubbish. Wayne Corp. is clearing some land to build a new private hospital. The environmentalists claim that the clearing will destroy a raccoon colony."

"Raccoon?" Dick laughed. "You're kidding."

"No. Bruce launched an investigation and discovered that the only animal life was rats who are feasting on the rubbish that less than civic minded people have dumped there."

"So, what's the problem?"

"The protesters don't believe him."

"And the knife wielding man?" Dick inquired.

"Some emotionally unstable soul. He hung himself in his cell three nights ago. There ends the threat. So, you're headed to Gotham?"

"Yep, I need a book."

"A book?" Barbara sounded surprised.

"I think we've got a copycat killer in the Haven at the moment."

"Go on."

"I think he's following the verses of a poem written by Arthur Wilmington-Randle."

"Never heard of him."

Dick smiled. "I doubt many people have. His work really is trash which is why I haven't been able to locate a copy of his poems - thus my trip to Gotham. If any library in the country will have a copy, the Manor will."

"I could have looked on-line for you."

"I did myself. Came up blank. I'll be in touch."

"You do know that Bruce is holding a function to launch the building of the new hospital at the Manor tonight?"

"Nope, I didn't. He doesn't usually have functions at the Manor any more."

"He didn't want to risk protesters crashing the function. They'll have a hard time breeching the Manor security."

"Okay, thanks for the heads-up, Oracle. Dick out."

PART THREE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	3. Chapter Three

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. _ So, thank you to Ivy3, Bessie 1, Jenn, Jenn11, Jill, Becky, Ghostninija, trecebo, leahblueeyes, Shan, rammbo, kris, BBfan, FickleFemale, artemis 79, Teri, Tazzy, Anon, annie, JosiahGirl, Robyn7459, Fortex... and anyone else I've missed who took the time to make my day. I'm in your debt. _

* * *

** Part Three **

Protesters lined the private road that lead to the Manor. Dick couldn't help being amused. All of this over rats. He guided his bike to the huge double gates that were being guarded by a troop of rent-a-cops. Dick frowned. This wasn't Bruce's style. He had never laid on security like this. Maybe there was more to the death threats then just some disgruntled racoon lovers.

"Do you have an invitation, Sir?"

It took some time before Dick was cleared to enter the huge grounds. Grayson rode up the long driveway, passing the guest car park which was brimming with vehicles. For the first time in years, the Manor was lit up like a Christmas tree. As Dick pulled in close to the front door, he stared up at the mansion that had been his home for most of his life. It was four stories high and that only took account of what was above the ground. The labyrinth of caverns below, which held Gotham's most technologically advanced room, was the size of a small city. The house above contained fourteen bedrooms, six bathrooms, library, ballroom, conservatory... and the list went on. When Dick had first arrived he had thought he was in a hotel and had asked how many people were staying there.

The sound coming from the Entertainment Courtyard on the opposite side of the house, pinpointed it as where Bruce was hosting the function. The football oval sized courtyard had been specially designed for large parties. Dick remembered attending many business functions when he was young. He had found them boring and had hated the simpering looks people had given him. He resented their whispered and pointed fingers - the unfortunate orphan. Sometimes, people took it upon themselves to tell him just how lucky he was that he had been taken in by a millionaire. Most of all he had hated watching Bruce play the part of the rich playboy. It didn't suit him and was so far from who he really was that it was almost laughable. Others, however, believed the act. Perhaps that was the greatest resentment of all. Bruce Wayne was an intelligent and complex man, not the halfwit playboy many people took him for. Something deep down inside Dick felt the need to defend the man who had became a surrogate parent to him.

As Dick had got older, he'd still found Bruce's business functions boring. It was something of a disappointment to Wayne who had assumed his ward would go into the family business. Actually, from the age of fifteen, a lot of decisions Dick had made had disappointed Bruce. He hadn't meant to hurt his guardian, but he couldn't live a lie. He had tried for Bruce's sake but it wasn't who he was. He had needed to become his own man and running Wayne Corp hadn't been part of his future vision. Than again, neither had becoming a cop and yet, that was what he was training to do.

Surprisingly, Dick encountered no other security. He let himself into the Manor and headed straight for the library. Despite the considerable noise coming from the outside courtyard, Alfred's irritated voice wafted above it from the kitchen.

Dick paused, watching as the elderly man reappeared muttering under his breath, two waiters following him. Alfred, despite his apparent subservient role as man-servant was anything but. He was Bruce's right hand man in many ways. Pennyworth ran the estate almost single-handed and manned the Batcave each evening when Bruce was on patrol. Of course, there was also a deep and caring relationship between Bruce and Alfred. Perhaps not quite father and son, but damn close.

Alfred spotted Dick and his stressed face lit up with true joy. "Master Dick. What brings you down here?" He dismissed the two waiters with a curt nod and strode down the long hall toward the young man he had helped raise.

"I'm after a book."

"I take it leisure is not the motivation."

Dick smiled. Alfred stopped in front of the younger man and without thought, hugged him briefly. "I am sorry about the misunderstanding. I should have ignored him and telephoned you."

Grayson shook his head. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I just..."

"You were angry and hurt, both appropriate reactions considering our thoughtless behaviour." The pair stared at each other. Alfred's voice dropped. "I wish you could visit more often, son. The house is empty without you. I miss you... and so does he."

Dick sighed. "He's as busy as ever. I doubt he has time to miss anything." For a moment there was silence as both men reflected sadly on the statement which rang with truth. "Look, I better not hold you up. I take it he's got you co-ordinating the entire function?"

"I should think so." Alfred's voice rose sharply. " He was going to bring in some 'professional' to do so. I do believe he used the words, 'a man of your age'. Needless to say, I gave him a piece of my mind."

"I'll bet you did," Dick chuckled. "I'll get out of your way. By the way, what's the deal with the rent-a-cops on the perimeter?"

"Mr. Lucas hired them. Master Bruce wasn't impressed. They were stationed all over the gardens and courtyard area, but the moment Master Bruce saw them he dismissed the majority to the other side of the fence." As Alfred spoke, a deep frown formed on his face. Lines of worry folded on his brow and his expressive grey eyes clouded.

"Alfred?" Dick asked, curiously.

"I know he's had death threats before, but never so many. He's only got a handful of men out there watching for trouble and after the attack on Tuesday, I tried to talk him into more, but..."

Dick nodded his understanding. "If you're worried, why don't you just order some of the hired security back inside?"

Alfred's eyes flashed with mock surprise. "Such as suggestion! As you well know, Master Dick, '_I'_ do not have the authority to order Wayne Corp. employers around." The inflection of his voice rose at the end and hung enticingly.

Another grin invaded Dick's lips and his head titled to the side in amusement. "Go on."

"As a silent executive on the board, it would seem to me that you would not only have the authority, but a responsibility to ensure the safety of the company chief executive."

"Okay, okay. I'll go out and take a look around and if it looks like a few more bodyguards are needed, I'll organise it. You realize that when he finds out, he'll want my guts for garters."

"What's new?" Alfred asked with apparent seriousness.

Dick winked, spun around and headed for the Entertainment Courtyard. Despite the light-hearted banter, Dick could tell Alfred was genuinely worried, though Grayson guessed that his former guardian had everything under control. Bruce always did.

As the young man who had once despised parties like this stepped out into the function area, a band started playing. Dick shook his head. Bruce really knew how to lay it on. Dignitaries from all over Gotham were present, including a frowning Commissioner Gordon.

"Evening Commissioner," Dick greeted as he walked past.

"Dick? What on earth are you doing here?"

Grayson paused and smiled. "SOS from Alfred. Apparently there isn't enough security."

"Exactly, but Bruce Wayne is the most stubborn man I've ever met, perhaps with the exception of Batman."

"You don't get any argument from me," Dick laughed.

"Son, I really don't think he'll listen to you."

"I wasn't going to give him the opportunity to argue." Dick bounced his eyebrows and moved through the crowd, his experienced senses taking in every corner of the courtyard. Peter and Mal, Bruce's regular bodyguards were standing a few feet behind Bruce. There were five rent-a-cops around the perimeter of the area and one sniper lying well concealed on the roof of the mansion. Dick made his way to the guard wearing the highest ranking security insignia.

"Sir, I would ask you to move on," the man muttered, sipping his coffee.

Grayson frowned. "And just how much is Wayne Corp. paying you to stand there drinking coffee?"

The security guard's face flooded with puzzlement.

"I'm Dick Grayson, Mr. Wayne's personal assistant on security matters. Considering the death threats Mr. Wayne has received, I'd have thought you'd have been on your toes." The stern rebuff saw the coffee cup disappear and the bodyguard swallow. "How many threats to his life are we talking about?"

"At last count, sixty-seven."

Dick frowned. "And do you always give such information to complete strangers? You didn't ask for any ID. For all you know, I'm a reporter looking for a story."

The man's eyes grew wide.

"Lucky for you, I'm not. I'd like..." A muffled shot of sorts rang out. Dick spun around, searching for Bruce, but he instinctively knew that the sound hadn't come from a gun. All faces in the courtyard were raised. The sky above exploded with light and the musicians began to play, the volume so loud that conversation was impossible. "Fireworks!" Dick roared. "You approved fireworks after the death threats he's received?!"

The hired security chief nodded. "What's wrong with..."

"I want them stopped. Now. IMMEDIATELY! "

The man nodded and began barking into his cell phone, all the while keeping an eye on the pacing man beside him. Dick watched as Mal and Peter moved closer to Bruce; Wayne, too, looking annoyed. Fireworks could mask a gunshot making it impossible to locate the direction of the shooter. There was no way Bruce had authorized this. Something was very, very wrong.

"Well?" Dick demanded as the security chief lowered his phone.

"It's all connected. Once the fireworks start, they can't be..."

"Get the rest of your men to move in and tell your sniper to keep his eyes peeled!" Dick ordered as he started through the crowd toward his former guardian. He needed to get Bruce to safety. None of this felt right.

"Sniper? What sniper?" the guard called after him.

Dick's heart missed a beat. He spun around to look at the security guard horrified. Before he knew it, Dick was running, forcing his way through the awed crowd who were watching the fireworks and deafened by the music accompanying them.

"BRUCE!" Dick bellowed, shoving people out of his path. The essential warning was swallowed by the combined noise of fireworks and music. Dick's eyes honed in on the shooter. As he watched, the sniper turned his weapon toward Bruce. "NOOOO!" Dick Grayson lunged forward and leapt up onto a table watching helplessly as the shooter zeroed in on his target. Without his suit... without his weapons, he was powerless to stop this. The assassin began to apply pressure to the trigger.

Time slowed. Dick Grayson reacted in the only way he could. He launched himself through the air, somersaulted and landed on the stage in front of Bruce, using his own body to shield Wayne. "Get dow...!" Dick was catapulted forward, slamming into Bruce. The two men tumbled to the ground, an ice sculpture behind them exploding as a bullet struck it.

Mal and Peter reacted immediately. One grabbed Bruce, dragged him to his feet and began to shepherd him to safety. The other threw himself over Dick. Bruce was forced off the stage and behind an overturned table. Only a few of the guests appeared to notice that anything out of the ordinary was happening, most mesmerized by the fireworks. The music continued for a few more seconds before the musicians were distracted by the movement on the stage. In confusion, they stopped. The fireworks echoed out and the guests turned to investigate.

"Everyone remain calm!" Mal shouted. Security men began to enter the crowd with weapons drawn, those who had been dismissed beyond the gates now pouring back into the grounds.

Bruce Wayne allowed himself to be manhandled, for tonight he was Bruce Wayne, not Batman. However, he couldn't help searching the roof top for the shooter. His guests were all racing for safety, their high pitched voices and shrieks bringing Alfred outside to investigate.

"There!" Bruce yelled, spotting the sniper. Mal immediately radioed the suspect's position to other members of the security team who began closing in.

Bruce stepped out from behind the table as the shooter disappeared. He'd seen the man on the roof earlier, but had assumed that he was part of the rent-a-army Lucas had hired. Wayne cursed. This was an unacceptable breech of security. Innocent people could have been injured. If Dick hadn't arrived, there was a good chance that the ice sculpture's fate could have been Wayne's own. A split second before Dick had materialised in front of him, Bruce had seen a blur arcing toward him and had realised it was his partner. No one could move like that except Grayson. He owed Dick his life... again. Of course, the fact that Grayson had been throwing himself around in a way only Nightwing could was something Bruce would have to take up with the younger man. Dick had risked revealing his secret identity through his actions - that wasn't acceptable no matter what the circumstances.

"Mr. Wayne, we need to get you inside," Mal ordered. "Your guests will be taken care of. Commissioner Gordon has called for police reinforcements."

Bruce continued to stare up at the roof for several seconds, his anger boiling. The protesters had just crossed the line. Now, Batman would deal with this.

"Sir?"

Wayne acknowledged the bodyguard with a nod. He straightened his tie and turned, but something on his hand caught his eye - a crimson smudge covered his palm. Puzzled, Wayne lowered his eyes to the front of his shirt. A fist sized spot of blood met his eyes. Blood?

"Sir, you've been hit!" Mal cried.

Bruce Wayne's breath caught in this throat for he knew that wasn't the case. _He _hadn't been hit.Wayne's head snapped back to the stage where Peter was leaning over someone.

A strangled whisper was wrenched from Bruce's soul. "Dick?"

PART FOUR COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	4. Chapter Four

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. I'm in your debt.

* * *

** Part Four **

Years of intense training and mind conditioning to ensure he never 'reacted' but made conscious decisions before responding were obliterated in that single moment as Bruce Wayne leaped from the ground onto the stage - an action that was beyond the capabilities of anyone outside of a trained athlete.

Bruce dropped beside his fallen partner, his attention drawn to the front of Dick's white shirt which was covered with blood, a single bullet wound evident. For a handful of heartbeats Bruce knelt frozen, his mind moving at a million miles an hour. Flashbacks cruelly rose up and threatened to consume him. His parents...The gun... Joe Chill...His mother's scream ..The shots...Blood.

Peter clamped his hand over the wound, trying to stem the blood flow. Bruce allowed his eyes to move up Dick's chest and settle on the younger man's face. It was creased with deep lines of pain, Dick's eyes wide with shock, his body squirming on the ground in response to the intense discomfort. Dick's tanned complexion was insipid, all colour stolen by the burning agony reverberating through his system. The same thing had happened to Bruce's parents before their eyes had gone glassy and life had left them, Wayne remembered.

Bruce and Dick's eyes met. The former looked lost as memories stole his ability to respond. He simply couldn't handle this. It was all happening again in front of his eyes! His family was being stolen from him. Bruce's very soul felt like it was being tugged from him.

Despite the pain and shock, Dick recognised what was happening.

__

Get him! Words were far from necessary. Telepathy it wasn't, but years of working together had given them a complete understanding of each other on this level. Right now, the millionaire needed something to cling to. Dick knew that Bruce Wayne couldn't cope - Batman would.

__

Get him! Dick's intense stare ordered. The latter recognised the signal from his partner and the small, traumatised boy that dwelled inside him instantly transformed into Gotham's avenging angel.

__

I'm okay. Dick silently assured, reaching up and patting Bruce's arm. _Get him._

Bruce nodded and rose to his feet, rage providing him with the strength to draw himself from the abyss he was slowly tumbling into. Alfred appeared behind him.

"Stay with him," Wayne ordered, before dashing off without looking back.

Alfred stepped forward puzzled. He couldn't see Dick, who was completely masked by the huge bodyguard. When the butler's eyes fell on the injured man, his elderly face clouded with alarm. "Master Dick!" He raced around and knelt down on the opposite side to Peter who was calling for an ambulance. Alfred picked up Dick's hand and squeezed it firmly as he tried to assess the extent of the damage.

"Hang on, my boy. Help is on the way." Alfred's usually calm voice wavered dreadfully. How had this happened? As Alfred tried to comfort Dick, everything began to sink in. There was blood everywhere, but it appeared to be coming from under Dick. The young man's body began to tremble as shock set in. Alfred glanced back over his shoulder in search of Bruce. It was clear that Dick's condition was serious. Where the hell had he gone?

Dick drew in a breath and his being exploded with searing heat. His condition was deteriorating quickly. There was a gurgling sound in his lungs as blood began to seep into them. Pain and loss of precious life-giving fluid pooled in a deadly combination fogging his mind and causing his consciousness to waver. He felt so incredibly tired. It was impossible to concentrate and yet that look of terror on Bruce's face was imprinted on Dick's soul. Bruce would blame himself for this and Dick couldn't allow that to happen. He had to let Bruce know this wasn't his fault... then Dick could sleep. He felt so tired. He desperately wanted to rest, but not before he delivered his message. Dick tried to speak, but nothing but a weak grunt was emitted.

"Easy, Dick. It's okay," Alfred assured him, reaching up and running his hand through the young man's dark hair. The slightest trace of pressure was returned via the hand he held. "Good, boy. Hang on." Alfred maintained his vice-like grip of Dick's fist. "It's okay, my boy. You're going to be okay."

"Help me roll him onto his side," Peter ordered.

Alfred stared at the other man startled, but did as instructed, conveying their intentions to the injured man. "We're just rolling you over." Dick groaned, loudly. "Be careful!" Alfred shouted at Peter. "You're hurting him."

"Oh shit! Shit! Shit!" Peter exploded in frustration as his suspicions were confirmed.

Alfred stared aghast at the three gaping holes in Dick's back.

"He's taken three," Peter barked into his radio set. "There's only one exit wound. There are still two slugs in him. His breathing is laboured. Lungs are filling with blood. WHERE THE HELL IS THAT AMBULANCE?!"

Dick was aware that he was being moved around, but he couldn't comprehend any of the conversation. The pounding in his ears drowned out everything else. The jerking as they moved him caused the agony to intensify to the point he was passing out, but at the same time the pain crystalized his thoughts momentarily, enabling him to cling to consciousness.

"Alfred," ** Dick panted. Speaking was more strenuous than he could ever remember, but Bruce's survival depended on what he had to say.**

"Don't try to talk," Peter ordered.

The roaring in Dick's ears made it difficult to focus, but the image of Bruce's face fuelled his determination. "Al..fred." ** It was a real battle to form the words. The only one he'd managed to get out was badly slurred and almost unrecognisable even to his own ears, but his iron will and stubborn nature united. He _had _to make Alfred understand! Then he could rest. God, he felt tried.**

Dick reached up and took hold of the front of the elderly man's jacket and drew him down. "Tell him... it's not his... fault. It was... my choice. My... decision. You've got... to tell him." ** Dick began to cough, blood appearing in the corner of his mouth.**

Alfred swallowed, wrestling for control. He gripped Dick's hand with one hand and his shoulder with the other.

"I'll tell him, now you just rest and that's an order, young man." The butler's voice broke as tears began to well in his grey eyes.

An incredible feeling of relief settled over Dick. Alfred had understood. He would pass on the message... but would Bruce believe him? Dick's body shuddered as he battled for his life. He had begun gasping, desperately trying to draw oxygen into his suffocating system.

Alfred held onto his grandson tightly - for a grandson he was. The elderly man could see he was losing him. He could tell. He was watching Dick fight like he'd never fought before.

Without warning, Dick attempted to speak again, his face lined with an equal amount of pain and determination. His fear for what would happen to Bruce forced him to try again. "Al...fred..." ** The fingers of oblivion were gripping the injured man, but he refused to succumb. He fought against the darkness beckoning him - fought with a fierceness and determination few others could understand or equal. The nerve in his cheek twitched. "**Alfred... you've got to ... make him... understand. My decision. .. Not his... Not his... fault."

"I will try, but he will need to hear it from you, son. You must stay with us," Alfred encouraged. Somehow, the wily old man had realized that Dick's need to save Bruce from himself, may be the key to him finding the strength to save himself.

Dick heard the words and understood them. His eyelids flickered twice before closing. Without his consent, Dick was drawn down in the painless world of unconsciousness, still fighting... for Bruce's sake.

"Master Dick?" Alfred licked his lips and squeezed the hand that gradually went limp in his. "It's going to be alright," the elderly man whispered. _Dear God, it's got to be alright!_

"He's stopped breathing," Peter snapped.

The declaration hit like a physical blow. Alfred Pennyworth stared at the other man as he rolled Dick onto his back, took hold of his chin and tipped it back. Dick had stopped breathing?! It simply didn't compute.

"Where the hell is the ambulance? I'm losing him, here!" Peter screamed down to Mal, before starting expired air resuscitation.

The revelation sent Alfred's world spinning out of control. They were losing him. One of his boys was dying? ONE OF HIS BOYS WAS DYING!

"Out of my way," Alfred roared. Strength he didn't know he had ignited. He wasn't going to let Dick die. Alfred shoved Peter back and began to blow life giving air into Dick's still lungs. "You are not..." Pause for a breath. "... going to leave this world..." Breath. "under these circumstances... You must fight... Come on, Son... If not for your own sake... for ours... You must fight!"

PART FIVE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	5. Chapter Five

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. I'm in your debt.

* * *

** Part Five **

__

Dick stared out directly in front of him. He was standing on the edge of a large body of water shrouded in a white mist. There was absolutely no sound around him. None. The stillness was unreal... eerie. He realized that he was completely alone. Turning to glance behind him, he could see only emptiness - nothing real or distinct was evident.

VVVVVVVVVV

Batman pulled his cowl into place and jogged back toward the hidden entrance that led to the grounds above. His mind replayed his partner's face and he reflected on the message he'd seen there.

__

Get him.

That was exactly what Batman intended doing. He would get him - by God he would get him!

A thoughtful frown formed on Batman's lips as he reviewed the events methodically. The sniper had gained access to the Manor with the security company Lucus had hired. He had waited until the fireworks started before making his attempt, knowing that it would mask the shot. Perhaps he had even organized the fireworks himself for no one on Wayne's staff had authorized them. The assassin's goal would have been achieved if not for Nightwing who had taken a single bullet low on the right side of his chest.

Here, the detective paused. His partner was okay he assured himself. Nightwing himself had cleared Batman to pursue the investigation - yet, there was a prickling deep down inside the Dark Knight that he couldn't ignore. Batman's thoughts snagged, his controlled emotions beginning to bubble and boil. He cursed. He couldn't afford this. He needed to pursue his investigation now while all of the clues and facts were fresh, but still his mind refused to let go. Batman's thoughts churned as he fought to consciously override the strange throbbing that had invaded his chest.

__

Nightwing would be okay... Alfred was with him... Nightwing would be okay... Medical help was only minutes away... Nightwing was okay... He'd called Leslie... Nightwing was in good hands... Leslie would be at the hospital waiting... Nightwing would be sore, but he was okay. He was a fine solider... one of the best Batman had ever known.

__

I'm okay.

That look alone convinced Batman his concerns were unfounded.

__

Get him.

Wilfully, Batman pushed every other thought aside. His training enabled him to shut the other parts of himself down. All forms of emotion where literally turned off allowing logical thought free reign. If Batman was to do his job and fulfil his partner's request, then he needed to be completely focused on the job at hand. Nothing would sway him from his objective. Nothing. The sniper would not escape. Gotham City's Dark Knight would make the paid assassin see the error of his ways and reveal his employer - the person who wanted Bruce Wayne dead. Only once Batman had apprehended this mystery person would his job be done. Only then would he allow himself the luxury of reacting as others would.

Until then, no other thought would be permitted to penetrate his mind... and yet, despite his best efforts and years of experience at zoning out, the burning in his chest remained.

VVVVVVVVVV

__

There was a slapping sound. Oars striking water. Out of the dense mist appeared a small wooden boat. Dick stared at the tiny craft and at the oarsman.

__

"Hello," the man called. He was old - wizened - but surprisingly strong for his age. Despite being quite close, Dick couldn't really make out his features.

The young man just stared, no conscious thought forming.

"Well, come on, young fella. It's time to go."

"Go?" Dick asked. His voice sounded hollow and it seemed to echo in the overwhelming silence.

"I'm here to pick you up. Come on."

Dick glanced at the emptiness that surrounded him. Puzzled, he stepped into the small boat.

"What's your name?"

"Dick Grayson."

"I'm the oarsman."

"Where are we going?"

"Well, that depends on you."

VVVVVVVVVV

The ambulance pulled in at the hospital with a police escort and two dozen members of the media all desperate for a photograph. News had travelled like quicksilver, though details were sketchy. Flashes flickered in the night as men and women with microphones jostled for position. Uniformed police appeared and forced the baying crowd back.

"Bruce Wayne's been shot?" one reporter asked another.

"No. Apparently, someone from the crowd jumped in front of him!"

When the doors of the ambulance burst open, Alfred, who had remained at Dick's side as the paramedics took over the EAR (Expired Air Resuscitation), searched for one face. To his overwhelming relief, it was there.

"Leslie!" The doctor stepped up into the ambulance, patted Alfred's arm and started shouting instructions to the other medical personnel. She had received updates from the ambulance officers, which had enabled her to have everything ready at this end.

"Leslie?" Alfred asked, reluctantly releasing his grip on Dick's hand as his grandson's stretcher was pulled from the back of the vehicle and whisked away, the ambulance officer still blowing air into Dick's lungs. "Leslie?" Alfred repeated.

"It's bad," Thompkins stated, seriously. He deserved the truth. She didn't want to raise his hopes. The vitals that had been reported to her were shaky. It was going to be an up-hill battle.

The look of raw agony on Alfred's face pulled at Leslie's heart. She knew how much he loved Dick. The grey-haired doctor hugged the elderly man briefly and then raced off after her patient. Alfred stepped out of the ambulance and stood outside the hospital for several moments before following, Leslie's words ringing in his ears. _It's bad._

Alfred already knew that. He'd never seen so much blood, and over the years, Alfred had seen his fair share. He'd stitched up Bruce, Dick, Jason and even Tim more times then he cared to count. He'd lived though Bruce's broken back and Tim's infection with the deadly virus and each time he'd thought things couldn't be worse. How wrong he'd been. This was worse. Nothing could be worse than this. If Dick died as a result of a gun... as a result of saving Bruce's life, Alfred would lose both of his boys. Nothing was surer.

VVVVVVVVVV

"Mask!" Leslie ordered. A nurse handed one to her and the medic placed it over Dick's nose and mouth, the automated pump taking over the job of forcing air into the unconscious man. Briskly, the doctor dismissed the paramedic who had kept Dick alive until now. "Transfusion. He's 'O' negative. We'll need X-rays. A couple of his ribs are broken by the look of it." She was move with great speed and yet her actions were calm.

"Are you a doctor?" one of two surgeons asked, entering the ER.

"Dr. Thompkins," Leslie stated, placing a stethoscope to Dick's chest. "I want a brain scan and..."

"With all due respect, doctor, we'll take it from here."

Leslie glanced across at the ID badge worn by the speaker. "No, Dr Moffit, you won't. I have been doing this since before your mother was born."

"You know the protocol, doctor," Moffit stated, arrogantly, despite the protests from the physician he had entered with.

Leslie's eyes hardened. "This is _my_ patient! I will be the primary on his case. If you don't like that, get the hell out of here, Sunny Jim!" Thompkins turned to the startled nurses. "Get him out of these clothes and where the hell is that blood?!"

"Let me help you doctor," the other physician offered, dismissing Moffit and starting the transfusion.

Leslie nodded her thanks. Moffit stormed from the room.

"How much do we know?"

"Three bullets. Two still in him. He's not breathing, but has been resuscitated since independent respiration stopped. Massive blood loss," Leslie informed the other doctor, using a light to examine Dick's pupils.

"He a friend?"

Leslie nodded. "I've known him all his life," she whispered, pausing for a moment to study Dick's deathly pale face. "And I'm not going to lose him!" she snapped, returning her full attention to directing those around her. "Is that 'O' negative? Nurse, why aren't these clothes off him, yet? Where's the scanning equipment?! Those bullets have to come out now. Come one, people. Move."

VVVVVVVVVV

__

Dick felt strangely calm. Calm was a feeling he knew was wrong, but he couldn't remember why. Something told him he was supposed to be concerned and yet, the tranquillity around him was impossible to deny.

He noted that the oarsman was studying him intently.

"You seem to accept all of this without question. Most of my passengers are far more inquisitive."

__

"I feel like this is right."

The oarsman nodded and continued to propel the primitive boat over the still water. "You are one of the few who has prepared himself for this journey."

"What journey?"

"The journey after life?"

Dick frowned. "I'm dead?"

The oarsman paused in his rhythmic rowing. "Not quite. I've picked you up so you are on the way."

Dick struggled to remember what had happened. "It wasn't the Joker, was it?"

"You must know by now that your friends will never allow that to happen again."

"My friends?"

The oarsman inclined his head toward the bank that they were pulling away from. Dick glanced back. The shoreline was no longer empty. He could see people standing there. Leslie was the clearest. That puzzled Dick.

"She is fighting to save you," the oarsman stated simply as he resumed his stroking.

__

"Where's Bruce?"

The oarsman smiled, gently. "Further back. Behind the others."

Dick turned to face the elderly man who seemed to know what was going on. "I don't understand."

"You are dying. This is your final journey. Look at the bank in front of you."

Dick strained his eyes to see across the distance. He could distinguish another group of people but they were a long way away and he couldn't make them out. Then something caught the young man's eye. A pink dress. That pink dress! It was the only thing he could remember his mother wearing when she wasn't performing.

"Mama?" he whispered.

"She's waiting for you. She's been waiting a long, long time."

Before he knew it, Dick was on his feet. The boat began to rock wildly.

"Sit down!" the oarsman ordered. "You must not fall into the water here."

Slowly Dick sank back into the boat. "Why?"

__

"This is the Lake of Lost Souls. You have lived a good and fruitful life and thus you have earned a ride across it. Those that don't - those whose souls are unsavable - I don't come for, and they end up lost in the lake forever. The lake is filled with the doomed spirits of both the living and the dead. If you fall in here, your soul will join theirs and be lost in limbo."

Dick strained to see the woman in the pink dress. "You're taking me to be with my Ma?"

"If that's what you want."

"I still don't understand."

"The decision is yours, Dick. Life or death?"

VVVVVVVVVV

Inside theatre 4, Leslie and the other surgeon, Alex Schneider set about removing the two missing bullets.

"Blood pressure's dropping," the anaesthetist informed the doctors.

Leslie glanced up at the screen that was monitoring Dick's vitals. "Come on, Dick. Hold on." She returned to probing for the first of the bullets. "Keep me informed."

"There it is," Schneider stated.

"Yeah, I see it. It nicked his lung. We need to drain them."

"I'm on it."

Leslie's brow furrowed as she carefully explored further, finally getting hold of the slug. "Got it."

"Breathing's becoming irregular."

"Come on, Kid. You can do better than this," Leslie chastised, dropping the bullet into a dish and then beginning her search for the second. "How are his lungs?"

"I'm almost finished draining them. I'll stitch the hole and then do some of the internal stitches needed."

Leslie lifted her eyes and sent a message of thanks. The younger doctor smiled. "We'll get him through this."

"BP is dropping again."

"It shouldn't be," Leslie snapped. "How much blood has he been given?"

"A full bag. He's not trying," one of the nurses commented with great experience. She'd seen it before. Sometimes, people wanted to go.

Leslie shot her a look of undiluted rage. "You don't know anything about this young man!"

"Sorry, Doctor. It's just that..."

"I need some suction."

The medics returned to work, Leslie quickly locating and removing the second of the bullets - all the while the nurse's comment echoed in her heart.

VVVVVVVVVV

__

"The decision is yours, Dick. Life or death?"

Dick's brow creased with confusion. "You mean I'm allowed to decide? I didn't think it would work that way."

"For some it does. Others are killed outright."

"Like my parents."

"That's right. Some, like yourself, are strong fighters and it is up to you if you wish to go back and battle for your life."

Again, silence filled the air. Only the rhythmic sound of the oars interrupted the unreal peacefulness. "Well? What do you want, Dick?"

Dick couldn't take his eyes off the figure in the dress. He wished he could see her face. He longed to have her arms around him.

"You want to see your mother," the oarsman stated with certainty.

"Yes."

VVVVVVVVVV

Abruptly, the monitors began beeping.

"BP moving into critical."

"We need to close him now!" Leslie ordered, her voice rising sharply.

Lights began to flash on the life support machines. "Breathing is erratic," the anaesthetist reported. "He's getting further away from us. We're losing him."

"No, we're not. Get me some adrenaline."

"Adrenaline?! You can't inject him with adrenaline after what you've already given him," Schneider argued.

Leslie thrust her hand out, her expression leaving no room for negotiation.

Reluctantly a nurse handed Thompkins a large needle which Leslie pumped directly into Dick's heart.

"Doctor!" Schneider cried. "I'm not prepared to take any responsibility for this."

"Come on, Son," Leslie pleaded with Dick quietly. "I can't do this on my own. You've got to start fighting." For several moments all waited. "Come on, Dick."

Abruptly a warning alarm sounded. "Heart has stopped."

"Get me the paddles. NOW!" Leslie shouted. She placed the objects on the young man's chest. "Clear!" A massive burst of electricity zapped through Grayson's body.

"He's still flat lining," Schneider testified.

"Again!" Leslie shouted. "Increase the charge."

VVVVVVVVVV

PART FIVE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	6. Chapter Six

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. I'm in your debt.

* * *

** Part Six **

__

"You want to see your mother," the oarsman stated with certainty.

"Yes."

"Good. I thought you would." The oarsman continued to stare at the young man across from him. "Have you nothing to live for? Nothing back there worth fighting for?"

Dick turned to face the bank. There he could see Leslie, Alfred, Tim and Barbara.

"Your family?"

"No... maybe... kinda."

"They must be. Only family from your life stands on that side. Oh, and if it is a case of murder, you are allowed to see the person who caused your death." Dick searched the bank. Far off to the right he could see a man lurking. Grayson's face darkened. Him? He was behind the assassination attempts on Bruce's life!

Without warning, Leslie moved. It was only then that Dick realized that the others were frozen. The doctor stepped right up to the water's edge and stretched out her hand, her face a blanket of worry.

"What's she doing?"

"She's trying to save your life. She's calling you back." Dick swallowed. He had never seen Leslie look so concerned. "She knows you are dying and she is beginning to realize that whether you live or die is not up to her. The decision is yours and yours alone."

"She'll blame herself if I die."

"Yes, she will." The oarsman continued to row. "Does that matter? She'll get over it. She will come to terms with your death knowing that she did everything she could. Remember, your mother is waiting." Dick focused on the other bank and his heart soared. The figures there were becoming clearer. "You do want to see your mother again, don't you?"

"Yes." Yes, he wanted to. He wanted to so much it hurt.

"Then sit and relax. This journey is painless."

Dick glanced back at Leslie. He could see the woman's mouth moving. He couldn't hear the words, but Leslie's eyes were pleading.

"Dick? It's not too late to turn back," the oarsman whispered.

"I..." He was torn; confused. As much as he wanted to see his parents, something was holding him back.

"Of course, back there, there is pain. On the other side," the oarsman stated, inclining his head toward the other bank, "there is no pain. No suffering. You have earned that. And there is your mother and your father who are longing to hold you again. Are you prepared to disappoint them now - now that you are so close?"

vvvvvvvv

**   
  
"Clear!" Dick's body jolted as the electrical charge stimulated his adrenaline-flooded heart. Leslie lifted her eyes to the monitors.**

"We have a pulse... He's stabilizing... Breathing is becoming more regular." There was quiet celebration from the nurses and the anaesthetist.

Leslie released her breath slowly.

Schneider shook his head in amazement, taking the paddles from the relieved woman. "You're an incredible doctor, Dr. Thompkins."

Leslie flicked her eyes to Schneider. "I have an incredible patient."

"He's strong."

"Yes, he is," Leslie agreed, placing her hand on Dick's head and smiling down at the young man with great affection. "He always has been."

Schneider eyed the woman carefully, concerned she would blame herself if Grayson didn't make it.

Considering his condition, that was the most likely outcome. "I'm not sure any of this is up to us any more," he warned.

Leslie looked over at the other physician and nodded. "I know. It's up to him now," she agreed.

vvvvvvvv

Alfred continued to pace. He thrust his phone back into his pocket. Bruce still wasn't responding. It was obvious he had turned his communicator off. Batman only did that when he was determined to see something through. At such times, interruptions of any type weren't tolerated.

Commissioner Gordon stepped out of the elevator and spotting Alfred, approached the restless man. He offered his hand. "How is he?"

Alfred set his shoulders. "If I know Master Dick, he is cracking jokes and refusing to lie still."

Gordon smiled. He'd known Dick Grayson since the day his parents had been killed. He was a good lad. Gordon had watched the relationship between his daughter and Bruce Wayne's ward grow and mature over time. "From what I know of that young rascal, I'm sure you're right." Jim's face became serious. As much as he would liked to have simply been there to offer support, he had a job to do. "Alfred, I know this is a bad time, but do you have any idea where Bruce is? He's disappeared... now, I'm sure that he's safe," Jim added, quickly, not wanting to alarm Wayne's long time friend, "but I really need to find him. Those bullets were meant for him."

"I... I..." Alfred blinked, searching for an excuse. What the hell could he say? How could he explain Bruce's reason for not being at his former ward's side after Dick had been shot? "I..."

The Commissioner reached out and squeezed the floundering man's shoulder. "It's okay. We'll find him, Alfred. We'll find him. Give Dick my best," he added, before turning and disappearing down the corridor with purposeful strides.

Alfred released his breath in a burst, took out his phone and re-dialled, punching the buttons with a certain amount of frustration. Again he received the automated message signalling that Bruce's communicator was switched off. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut helplessly. If Batman didn't want to be found, no one would find him.

Realizing that others needed to be informed, Alfred called a second number.

"Yo!"

"Master Robin."

"Hey, Alf. You'll never guess where I am? Go on, try and guess."

"I have some news." Alfred's voice cracked with emotion despite his best efforts to keep it level.

"Alfred? What is it?" Tim asked carefully, hearing the strain.

"Master Dick has been shot."

"Ooookaaaay. His suit would have absorbed most of the impact."

Alfred swallowed. "Master _Dick _as been shot."

For several moments there was silence. "I don't... you mean...?"

"I am at Gotham Hospital. Dr. Thompkins is tending to him. He has lost a considerable amount of blood. He... he wasn't breathing when we arrived."

"What?!... but... Alfred?"

"I think it would be best if you joined me here, Master Tim." The last past was a subtle message informing Tim that this was not the place for Robin.

"Okay. I... Alfred, how bad is it?"

Leslie's words rang in the butler's ears, but Alfred had no intention of passing that on until Tim arrived. "Dr. Thompkins is with him."

"Is Bruce there?"

"I have been unable to contact him. He has gone after the shooter."

"Do you want me to find him?" Tim asked.

Alfred considered the question. "No. He knows Master Dick has been injured. I am sure he will call to check on his condition shortly. You come straight here."

Alfred ended the call and started to dial Barbara's number when Leslie appeared at the top of the hall. Their eyes met and she nodded. Alfred slowly lowered himself into a chair, relief sapping his strength. Dick was alive.

Leslie walked up the hall and sat beside him. "It was tough going. I almost lost him."

Alfred nodded, doing his best to stay abreast of his emotions, but it was becoming more difficult by the minute. "And he is going to be alright?" He stared into Leslie's eyes, pleading for the only answer he was prepared to accept.

The doctor took each of his hands in hers. "I don't know," she replied sincerely. "He's lost a lot of blood. However, the bullets missed his heart and other organs. One of the bullets broke two of his ribs. I'm waiting on brain scans to check that there has been no damage due to oxygen depletion. I..." She sighed. "It's going to be touch and go for a while. I wish I could be more positive."

"You have been honest and for that I am grateful. May I see him?"

Leslie nodded and they rose to their feet together. "Alfred, you need to prepare yourself. He's on life support."

"I have seen life support before, Dr. Thompkins," the butler informed her stoically. "I expected as much."

Leslie led Alfred through a maze of corridors to the intensive care ward where Dick had been taken. She paused in the doorway assessing the butler's tense expression. Satisfied that Alfred was strong enough to face the scene beyond, she stepped inside.

One of the best poker faces known to man faltered momentarily, but Alfred maintained his calm appearance, focusing on the wall beyond Dick. Leslie gripped his arm gently. "Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"You can stay. I have spoken to the nurse," Leslie informed him, inclining her head to an intensive care nurse seated at a small table across the room. The woman was completely absorbed in her work and did not appear to notice the newcomers. "She will inform me the moment there is any change in Dick's condition. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I am doing as well as can be expected, under the circumstances," Alfred replied. The doctor waited a few more moments and then retreated, providing Alfred with some privacy.

Alfred Pennyworth continued to stare out directly in front of him. He listened to the fall of Leslie's shoes as they echoed down the corridor and finally disappeared. Only then did Alfred lower his gaze and allow it to fall on Dick. His breath caught in his throat as he stared down at his grandson who appeared somewhat small and frail hidden under the masses of tubes and wires. Dick's face was as pale as the pillow his head was resting against. His heavily bandaged chest rose and fell - or was forced to do so by the breathing apparatus that he was attached to.

Slowly, Alfred approached the bed, his face twisted with a combination of horror and grief. He reached out and laid his hand on Dick's head, gently brushing his hair from his brow. "Oh, my boy." Alfred raised a trembling hand to his mouth as he fought back the tears.

For a long time he just stood. Finally, Alfred lowered his face and asked for help from the one person he thought may be able to give it. "Please don't take him, Father. He is needed here."

Opening his eyes, Alfred picked up Dick's hand and squeezed it, hoping that somehow the injured man would know it was him... know that he wasn't alone... know that someone who cared was there.

"Don't you go and die on me, young man. Do you hear me?" The only response was the gentle beeping and buzzing of the technology that surrounded the bed. Alfred could feel he was losing the composure he was renowned for. Tears filled the reserved man's eyes and spilled down his cheeks.

"If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you," he whispered, quoting from Winnie the Pooh. It had been Dick's favourite book. Why that popped into his mind at that moment, Alfred didn't know, but it echoed everything he felt.

"He needs you, Dick. I honestly don't think he knows how much he needs you." Again, Alfred ran his free hand though Dick's hair. "And... I... need... you... too." The quiet sobs increased until Alfred Pennyworth finally broke down and cried.

PART SEVEN COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	7. Chapter Seven

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. I'm in your debt.

* * *

** Part Seven **

__

Another of your friends is calling you back."

Dick turned. Alfred had stepped up to the water's edge, his right arm outstretched. Dick stared at the elderly man's face. "Alfred," he whispered, recognizing the rare pain displayed.

"He'll be all right. He knows that you are headed for a better place. His faith will cushion the blow that your death delivers."

"Alfred's faith is strong," Dick agreed. The butler was a regular churchgoer who honestly believed that the Lord had been keeping an eye on his boys. 'How else would you have survived this long?' he was often heard to say. However, Dick couldn't help but wince at the hurt that plagued his friend's eyes. Friend? No, 'friend' was far from adequate. Alfred was family. The truth was, Alfred was the cornerstone of Dick's life. No matter what happened, Alfred was always there to restore his equilibrium.

"He will help the others deal with their grief."

"But no one will help him deal with his," Grayson muttered with certainty.

"Perhaps not. We are nearly halfway. Look, you can almost see your mother's face."

Dick spun around quickly. They were much closer now and he could... he could see his mother's face! She was smiling at him. His father was there too. Dick could feel tears filling his eyes. They looked well. They looked so happy. Both had their arms stretched out toward him. His longing to be with them grew.

"It won't be long now, Son. Like I said, you are almost halfway."

VVVVVVVV

****

Henry MacDonald paced nervously. He still couldn't believe it. Thirty-two successful hits under his belt and he had missed! In ten years in the profession, he'd never missed. Once this particular employer caught up with him his fate would be sealed, which was why he was here.

MacDonald stopped and stared around the dump, though the word dump was far from an adequate description. This was the bottom of the line. The carpet on the floor was bare with ground-in filth and fleas. There was no electricity and the only light he had was from a single candle placed on the small table beside the blanketless cot that would serve as his bed. The shared bathroom down the hall was putrid and there was a smudge on the walls that could only be one thing. The smell of unwashed bodies and faeces was so strong in the common room it had made the assassin retch. However, he had no other choice if he wanted to live. No one would find him here. He'd left no trail. That he was certain of. His ability to disappear completely after a hit was legendary.

A rat ran across the ten-foot square room, stopped and studied MacDonald for a few seconds and then continued on its way. Henry grabbed one of his shoes and threw it at the vermin but missed. His hands shook with rage. He didn't deserve this! None of this was his fault. He had to ring and let 'Mr Smith' know.

MacDonald took out his cell phone and dialled, starting to pace again.

"**It would seem that Bruce Wayne is still breathing," Smith growled without welcome. "That does not please me."**

MacDonald licked his lips. "I didn't actually miss. I hit the place he was standing but...You see..." How did he explain? He still couldn't believe it himself. "Someone from the crowd leapt up in front of him and..."

"And you shot him. Yes, it is on the news as we speak."

"Look, I had his bodyguards covered. This fella wasn't a bodyguard or a member of security." The assassin had checked them all out meticulously. He knew their exact positions. He had taken the time to study them so he could recognize them on sight.

"He came from nowhere and positioned himself directly between me and Wayne. He knew what he was doing. I've never seen anyone move like that. I guess he must have been a bodyguard of sorts. Someone Wayne had planted in the crowd. I didn't pick him."

"I see. Interesting," Mr. Smith purred, "but far from important. I paid you to exterminate Bruce Butter-Wouldn't-Melt-in-his-Mouth Wayne."

"Look, I give you my word, I'll get Wayne the next time." There was silence. MacDonald licked his lips. The seconds drew out. Perspiration appeared on the harassed man's brow.

"Very well. But should you fail me again, your death will be long and excruciating. I will see to it personally."

"I won't fail." The phone was slammed down in his ear.

MacDonald took out a cigarette and his breathing gradually returned to normal as he sucked the calming nicotine into his agitated system. He'd been given a second chance. He wasn't about to waste it. Now, he just needed to plan out the hit. He couldn't afford errors. Wayne was likely to be at the hospital at the moment. If he could...

A shadow fell over MacDonald. He turned toward the window as it shattered inward. Henry MacDonald screamed as a creature from his worst nightmares landed inside the room. MacDonald took a revolver from his pocket and emptied it into the hulking form at point-blank range. The creature paused momentarily and then continued toward him.

"Who hired you?" it snarled. The voice was a hushed whisper - basically just air forced out through its tightly clenched jaw. A fist the size of a bowling ball darted out and encircled MacDonald's throat. "Who hired you?"

"I...I... I missed. Bruce Wayne is still alive," MacDonald whimpered. He knew Batman was a friend of Bruce Wayne's. He had heard Wayne speak out in defence of Gotham's creature of the night.

Batman's eyes became harder, but his grip relaxed a little. "Go on." Through great experience, Batman had learned that allowing a felon to talk often brought about unexpected revelations.

****

"He... I shot some other fella. Young fella. He leaped out of the crowd. He saw me and... and... he knew." MacDonald realized. "He knew I was going to shoot." Unlike everyone else who had spotted the assassin, this man seemed to know MacDonald wasn't part of the security team. "He jumped in front of Bruce Wayne. Saved his life. Positioned himself so I couldn't get a bullet past him."

Batman continued to glare at the other man, but his mind drifted. Dick had leapt up onto the stage knowing the bullet was coming? Of course he had. Dick didn't try to shove him out of the way. He didn't have time. He stood there and took the single bullet in the back! Batman blinked and his attention resettled on his captive. "Why didn't you pull out of the shot?"

"I'd already made them. He moved so quickly. I've never seen anyone move like that." Batman continued to glare at the other man but he appeared distracted. MacDonald saw his chance to negotiate a deal. "Look, will you let me breathe here? I'm willing to co-operate. I know you know Bruce Wayne. You're friends aren't you?"

Batman's face remained blank.

"Look, Bruce Wayne is fine. The fella I shot was a nobody. No one important. No one you'd care about."

Batman's emotions exploded. He lifted MacDonald off the ground, the hapless assassin kicking and gasping.

__

No one important. The words rang in Batman's ears. Nightwing was his partner and he had risked his life to shield the Dark Knight from the bullet. Batman once again became aware of the dull ache in his chest. It was a strange sensation that was distinct and different to the throbbing caused by the six bullets that had bounced off his reinforced suit. This wasn't something he'd felt for a long time... so long, that he didn't recognize it.

MacDonald's gasps became gurgles. "Who hired you?" Batman ground out, the flickering light from the candle refecting off his impassioned face. Normally Batman showed no emotion. Today was different.

"I... Mr. Smith!" MacDonald wasn't prepared to identify his employer. Batman terrified him but Mr. Smith... Mr. Smith was a man who didn't know what mercy was. "Mr. Smith. That's all he told me. I met him in a bar over on 46th Street. The Buster and Oyster."

"I know it. If you have been lying to me..." Batman increased his grip as added emphasis and then hurled MacDonald across the room. His rage was building without control.

The assassin began coughing as he dragged oxygen into his starved lungs.

"I expect you to give yourself up to police." Batman didn't have time to do it himself. He didn't know why, but he felt a sense of urgency that had little to do with the trail going cold. There was something nagging at him... and the burning in his chest was gradually spreading and intensifying.

MacDonald stared up at the Dark Knight with wide eyes.

"Give yourself up or I'll become your worst nightmare."

****

"Okay. I'll go now," MacDonald garbled, hauling himself to his feet. Batman maintained his piercing gaze, the sniper gradually wilting under it.

Without a word, Gotham's avenging angel turned, stepped up onto the window sill and disappeared into the emptiness beyond.

VVVVVVVVVV

__

"How old were you when your parents died?" the oarsman asked.

"Eight."

"That's young. You must have missed them very much."

Dick stared passed the hunched old man. His parents were no longer frozen figures. They were moving about on the shore impatiently. It was then that Dick consciously noted the other people standing there. There was a young couple about his parents' age. There was also a woman with large dark eyes. Dick knew instinctively that she had to be Tim's mother - the family resemblance was unmistakable.

"They are waiting for you too," the oarsman stated.

"You can read my thoughts?"

"Of course."

"Why are they waiting for me? I don't know them."

The oarsman smiled. "But they know you. They want to thank you. You have been important in the lives of those they love."

Dick sensed movement behind. Tim had stepped up to the water. Unlike Leslie and Alfred, who had their hands stretched out, the youth simply stood looking lost, his arms hanging uselessly at his sides.

VVVVVVVVVV

****

"Hi," Tim whispered, as he entered the quiet intensive care ward. Alfred was seated beside Dick, his wrinkled hands locked around one of his grandson's as he prayed in earnest. Leslie was standing at the head of the bed, her own hand on Dick's brow checking for fever.

"How is he, Leslie?" Tim's voice echoed in the room.

"Not good, Tim."

The boy swallowed hard. He hadn't expected all of this... all of these machines. "Is he going to be alright?" For several seconds there was silence outside of the sound of the pump forcing air in and out of Dick's body.

"I don't know." Leslie's voice was soft. Almost as if she didn't want to admit what she had to say. "I've done all I can."

"But he's got a chance, doesn't he?" Tim was floundering. Leslie wasn't giving the answers he wanted - needed to hear.

Leslie sighed. "There's always a chance, son." Tim didn't like the defeat that had echoed in each and every syllable.

"But he can't die! He can't!" The young man's voice rose sharply and resounded with helplessness and desperation.

Alfred opened his eyes and glanced up at the youth. "His fate is out of mortal hands, Tim."

"But he's fighting, isn't he?!" It was a sob. He was pleading.

****

"I don't know," Leslie muttered, honestly. "I hope so."

Tim stared at Dick - a man who was like a brother. A man who had taken the time to teach him. Someone Tim loved. Slowly, he strode forward. "You've got to fight this, Dick. You hear me?! You've got to." The boy stared down at his friend, the black and purple of the bruising peeking out from under the bandages standing out in contrast to the stark pallor of the rest of Dick's skin. The beeping of the life-support machines shouted out how serious all of this was. "He isn't breathing?" Tim whispered.

"No." Leslie walked over to the lad and put her arm around him.

"Isn't there anything you can do to help him?" Now Tim was drowning. This wasn't right. Dick was strong. He wouldn't go without a fight. He wouldn't... would he?

"I've done everything I can, Tim. I wish there was more I could do."

Tim licked his lips, pulled free of Leslie and stepped closer to the bed. Gingerly he placed his hand on Dick's arm.

"Come on, Dick. You gotta fight. You've got to."

VVVVVVVVVV

__

"Yes, the young one. He will find this difficult, but the others will be there for him."

"Tim lost his Ma too."

"Yes, I know."

"He has his father and stepmother but... I guess he sees us as family too."

"So you admit that they are your family?"

"Never denied it." Dick swallowed as Tim reached his hand out toward him, tears streaming down the boy's face. "I'm sorry, Tim."

"If he were in your position, he would choose to go to his mother also. Don't worry, he will be well taken care of by your other friends."

"I..." Abruptly, Dick sat up straighter. The man lurking in the background had started moving. "What's he doing?"

"Don't worry about him. He is not something you need to worry about any more."

"But what's he doing?"

"He is your friends' concern now."

"Do they know he's there?"

"They will shortly."

VVVVVVVVVV

****

Mr. Smith lit a cigar and sat back in his grand leather chair. He smiled at the man standing across from him. This man's work was without peer when it came to causing chaos.

"You see, I have a dilemma. Mr. MacDonald, who came highly recommended, has failed me. Two failures in a couple of days is more than I can bear. It is for this reason I require your particular talents."

The man in the army fatigues nodded. His jaw was square, almost unrealistically so. The small eyes set deep under his protruding brow never wavered.

"You understand what is required?" Mr. Smith checked.

"Yes." His voice was deep and jagged.

"And you think you can obliterate Bruce Wayne?"

A smirk appeared on the mercenary's face. "There won't be enough of him left for an autopsy."

Mr Smith smiled, widely. "Good. Good. I like that. He was always a little too pretty for my liking anyway."

VVVVVVVVVV

PART EIGHT COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought.

** © June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	8. Chapter Eight

**LAKE OF LOST SOULS**   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)

PLEASE NOTE: I have no medical background so their are likely to be gross inaccuracies. I hope you can enjoy my story in spite of this.  
  
_Special Thanks_: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. I'm in your debt.

* * *

**Part Eight **

The Batmobile rocketed its way across town, the driver's mouth set in a deep frown as he reflected on what the hired assassin had told him. "He knew I was going to shoot. He jumped in front of Bruce Wayne. Saved his life. Positioned himself so I couldn't get a bullet past him... He moved so quickly. I've never seen anyone move like that."

Nightwing had literally used his body as a shield. What the hell had he been thinking?! Why hadn't he yelled out - the noise from the fireworks and music, Batman realized. It didn't excuse Nightwing's recklessness, though. He'd always been reckless. He never took the correct precautions. He... Batman swallowed and released his breath slowly. Even as a child, Dick had always disregarded his own safety when it came to protecting his partner. Batman had never been able to train that out of him. The Dark Knight shook his head... and the burning in his chest grew.

With great effort, Batman tried to assure himself that it was simply anger plaguing him, but the feeling was fast becoming unbearable and impossible to ignore. The crimefighter cursed. He was being distracted from his mission. He honestly believed he was being stupid and stupidity was not something that usually afflicted him.

Again, Batman set about convincing himself that everything was fine. Nightwing had taken a single bullet to the back, high on the right side. It would have missed his spine and his heart and was too high to have hit his liver, kidneys or spleen. It may have nicked a lung. Alfred was with him. He'd be in hospital now and Leslie would have fixed everything the way she always did. Nothing was wrong... and yet the burning refused to ease.

Unexpectedly, the image of Nightwing lying on the stage popped into Batman's mind unannounced and it was then that Batman realized his error. Nightwing had not been his saviour. _Nightwing _hadn't been at the party. Somehow, Bruce had convinced himself that his partner had been doing his duty, but that wasn't correct either. In battle, Batman could expect Nightwing to risk his life if necessary, but that hadn't been the case. _Dick _had leapt in front of him. It was _Dick _who had been shot.

Batman released a shaking breath. "Stupid kid."... and the burning intensified, clutching at his soul. He reached down for his communicator and fingered it, but withdrew his hand.

I'm okay. Get him.

There hadn't been words, but that had been the message as clear as if Dick had shouted it. 'Him' was the person behind all of this and catching that person was what Batman was determined to do while the trail was still fresh. Then he could go to the hospital and put Dick's mind at rest.

**Despite this logical reasoning, Bruce couldn't dismiss the strange heaviness in his chest.**

**"What the hell were you thinking?! Dammit, Dick!**

VVVVVVVVVV

"Bruce?" Dick's face clouded with concentration.

"I beg your pardon?" the oarsman asked.

"I thought that I heard..."

"No, you can not hear him here. You can see his image, but not hear him."

Dick searched for Bruce on the bank, but he was being masked by the collection of other people.

VVVVVVVVVV

Alfred left Dick's side reluctantly to go out into the corridor to make a number of necessary phone calls. First, he tried Bruce's communicator and wasn't surprised to find it still switched off. Then, he dialled Barbara's number.

"Miss Barbara?"

"Alfred." Her voice was strained, her sniffling advertising the fact that she had been crying. "I saw it on the news. An attempt on Bruce's life but some stranger stepped in front of him." Barbara paused, her voice breaking. "It was Dick, wasn't it? He was there. It was Dick?"

"Yes."

"He's alright though, isn't he?" she begged.

Alfred considered his answer carefully and decided that the truth was the only course open to him. "I'm afraid not. He is in intensive care."

"Intensive care! Okay... umm... okay. I'm almost there. I left as soon as I saw the news. I knew it was him. Is Bruce with him?"

"No. Master Bruce has gone after the shooter. I haven't been able to contact him since." That was a growing concern.

"Yeah... okay... ummm... oh, God, Alfred." Barbara began to sob.

"Calm down, my dear. It is important that you arrive here in one piece. How long?"

"Not long. I'm doing double the legal limit."

"You must slow down, my dear. I don't want to be standing next to your bed as well."

vvvvvvvvvv

The mist that had been swirling around the boat suddenly began to lift. "What's happening?" Dick demanded.

"We are over halfway. Relax, you're almost there."

Dick shot a look back at his companions. At Leslie, Alfred and Tim who were reaching out to him. To Barbara a pace behind them. And to Bruce whom he couldn't see, but who he knew was there.

"They will learn to cope with your loss. You must try to relax, Dick. In a little while you will be with those you love."

VVVVVVVVVV

Barbara reached out, picked up Dick's hand and drew it to her cheek. Her face was puffy from crying, her tears still trailing down her face. Alfred moved across and put his arm around her.

"Oh, Alfred. I..." Again she broke down.

"Talk to him," Leslie encouraged. "Some say that the unconscious are aware of those around them. Talk to him, Barbara. He may hear you."

Barbara swallowed. "Now, listen to me, Short Pants. I know you and I used to do the 'anything you can do I can do better' thing, but this is just taking it a bit far. You think you're winning by getting shot worse than I did?"

Alfred squeezed her shoulder. "I'm afraid Miss Barbara is going to win this round if you don't wake up shortly, Master Dick. She regained consciousness quite quickly, if I remember correctly."

"That's right, I did."

"Can't let Barb beat you, Dick," Tim added. All waited for some sign that Dick had heard them. His bandaged chest continued to rise and fall rhythmically. His brain activity that was being monitored showed no sign of change.

"Come on, Dick," Barbara whispered, lowering his arm back to the bed and reaching up to place her hand on the side of his ashen face. She could barely reach. Tim moved forward, lifted Barbara into his failsafe arms and stepped up to the bed so that she was close to Dick. "You and I have so much living we need to share. You said you were going to take me back to the circus so we could soar through the air together again, like we used to. I want to do that with you. Please... please, Dick." Her resolve crumbled. "Don't... leave... me," she wept.

VVVVVVVVVV

"Barb," Dick acknowledged quietly. The woman had just moved forward to join the others at the water's edge.

"Mmm. An interesting one. Her reaction I cannot foresee. You have touched her in a way she never predicted. Her feelings for you run very deep, but she is afraid."

"I know, but I don't understand why."

"That wheelchair..."

"Doesn't mean a damn thing! I don't care about it. She's still Babs to me."

The oarsman smiled. "Your feelings for her appear to run just as deep... Look."

Dick glanced at the other bank. There was a young man standing with his parents. "Jason?"

"He is waiting for you. He has a lot he needs to tell you."

Dick stared at the youth. He could see his face quite clearly. Jason looked serious, but he waved. Dick's parents were also waving and reaching out toward him.

"It will be easier if you focus on them from now on. You have left your life behind. Focus on your eternity with them now."

VVVVVVVVVV

Batman entered the Buster and Oyster through the back entrance. It was an upmarket bar for the rich and unscrupulous. Neon pink and green lights flashed though the noisy room as a loud jukebox belted out some trash.

As Batman walked in, half of the well-dressed clientele, who were flashing cash like candy, rose to their feet and discreetly made their exit.

"I'm looking for Mr. Smith," Batman growled. "He hired a sniper to assassinate Bruce Wayne. I'd like to discuss his reasons with him."

The barman eyed Batman carefully, slowly edging toward an exit. Everyone else remained still, too scared or too fascinated to move. Batman scanned the room, his gaze stopping on one man who was shaking vigorously. He made his way over with long, easy strides. As he did so, all those he passed dashed from the room, deciding morbid fascination wasn't as important as saving their own skins.

"Something on your conscience? Where can I find Mr. Smith?"

"I don't know. I've never heard of him." The man stuttered badly, his eyes wide like saucers.

"So why do you look like you're about to shit yourself?" a man to Batman's left asked. The Dark Knight turned towards the speaker as fifteen men filed in through the two entrances to the bar. "Everyone out. I have a message for Night Rat from Mr. Smith."

In less than five seconds, Batman and the sixteen men were the only people remaining. The speaker smiled, the neon lights reflecting off his yellowed teeth. "Mr. Smith said to tell you to mind your own business. This is between him and Bruce Wayne."

"It became my business when an innocent man got shot."

"He should have minded his business too, then, shouldn't he?"

Batman watched as the group of well-muscled thugs slowly spread out. They were armed with iron bars and chains.

"So, what are you?" the Dark Knight demanded. "Rent-a-twit?" Batman froze as he said the words. They weren't his own. They were the exact words Nightwing had said to a group like this the last time he and Batman had fought together almost six months earlier. All of the sudden, Bruce was consumed by the dreadful feeling of loss. His heart ached, the burning in his chest igniting. Before he could reflect on what all of this meant, the mob attacked.

VVVVVVVVVV

Bruce? BRUCE?" Dick jumped to his feet again.

"Sit down!"

Somehow Dick knew something was wrong. He could feel it and if there was one thing that Dick had learned in his lifetime, it was to listen to his instincts - and at the moment they were screaming at him.

"Bruce's in trouble."

"He can handle it," the oarsman stated confidently.

Dick stared across at the bank. The faces of his friends had become indistinct. He could see their outlines, their outstretched arms, but he could no longer read their expressions. Behind those at the water's edge was Bruce. Dick's eyes narrowed. He concentrated. Bruce's face came into focus. Unlike the others, whose faces had been shocked and worried, Bruce's face was blank.

"What's wrong with him?!" Dick yelled, turning to the oarsman.

"You and he share a remarkable relationship if you can see him from this distance."

"What's wrong with him?!" Dick repeated.

"Nothing."

Dick reached across and grabbed the elderly man. "I want the truth. Why isn't he moving? Why isn't he standing with the others?!"

The oarsman's face remained calm. "Sit down, Dick; your journey is almost over."

"He doesn't know, does he? He's out looking for who's behind the assassination attempt," Dick suddenly realized. "Bruce doesn't know that I'm..."

"Dying. You're right. He doesn't know yet."

"Why?"

The oarsman wriggled free. Strangely, the boat was still moving toward the other bank even though the oarsman wasn't rowing.

"WHY hasn't anyone told him?... He's turned his communicator off," Dick realized. "He's shutting everything out."

"This is not something he is prepared to face."

"Dammit, Bruce."

VVVVVVVVVV

"**Dick?" Momentarily distracted but the sudden awareness of his former ward, Bruce walked directly into a punch. He went down under a mass of bodies as the thugs dived on top of him. Too stunned by the clarity of the awareness to fight back, Batman accepted his fate.**

VVVVVVVVVV

Dick watched as Bruce was knocked backwards by invisible hands. "What's going on?"

"He is being attacked. But don't worry. He is more than capable of protecting himself. Sit down, Dick. It won't be long until you are on the other side. There is no pain there, I promise you. Look at your mother. She is crying tears of joy."

Dick obeyed the instruction. His mother's face was so clear and so were the other faces on the bank. The young couple was now in focus. Dick would recognize them anywhere. How many times had he seen Bruce gazing at their portrait in the main hall? Martha and Thomas Wayne were smiling at him, but their eyes echoed great pain. Tim's mother's did also. Jason looked concerned.

"I've got to go back," Dick whispered.

The oarsman stared up at him and shook his head. "No, son, you must sit down and relax."

"You don't understand. I've got to go back. He needs me. They all do. And... I need them." It was a revelation for Dick. He really did need them - every one of them.

"I'm sorry, son, it's too late. Once we passed halfway, there was no turning back."

"WHAT?! I've got to go back! Turn this boat around! Now!!"

"It is out of my hands. See," the oarsman pointed to the still oars. He no longer needed to propel the boat. It was being drawn to the other side.

"I've got to get back. You've got to help me!"

"There is no way back."

Dick stared at the oarsman. He started to open his mouth when the peaceful silence was shattered by a booming noise. The boat began rocking from side to side as the water churned around them.

"Sit down."

"What's going on?" Dick stared back at his friends. All but Leslie were stepping back from the water's edge. "Something's happened?"

The oarsman nodded. "I'm afraid so."

VVVVVVVVVV

The silent hospital ward resounded with a booming alarm. Leslie leaped toward her patient, her face shadowed with distress.

"Step back from him!" she shouted.

"Leslie?" three desperate voices cried as one.

PART NINE COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought. 

**© June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	9. Chapter Nine

LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
__

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.**

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)

PLEASE NOTE: I have no medical knowledge so there are likely to be inaccuracies. I hope you can enjoy my story despite this.

__

Special Thanks: Thank you to all those people who have left such wonderful feedback. Some of you haven't left your e-mail addresses so I haven't been able to thank you. I just want you to know that your kind words mean so much. I'm in your debt.

* * *

**Part Nine **

****

Dick? Bruce searched through the sludge that had entered his mind. For the first time in fifteen years, Bruce Wayne suddenly had the overwhelming feeling of being alone. It was a feeling he had lived with constantly until the day he had opened his doors and his heart to a little boy with bright blue eyes. The dull ache in Bruce's chest was familiar for this reason. His broken heart had plagued him for most of his childhood and early adult life until... _Dick?_

The thugs above continued their assault, something Bruce was completely oblivious to. His suit was absorbing much of the beating, but not all. Dizziness descended, though Bruce was unsure if it was a result of the relentless attack or the strange 'knowing' that was creeping into his consciousness. Dick was leaving him...

VVVVVVVVVV

Dick shared Bruce's strange awareness. "He isn't fighting back," the young man whispered. "I... Bruce..."

The oarsman sighed. "He must find his own path, Dick."

"He can't," Dick realized. Bruce was giving up. Dick couldn't let that happen. "Get him!" he shouted across the water to the dim figure now hidden behind Tim, Alfred, Barbara and Leslie. "Batman, get him!"

VVVVVVVVVV

****

Get him!

Without warning, an inhuman cry left Batman's being. Like a volcano exploding, The Dark Knight forced his way to his feet, his attackers scattering as they were thrown off him. In seconds, the enraged crimefighter had annihilated the thugs. Re-energised by the silent and unexplained encouragement he sensed from his partner, Batman took control. The side of him that was Bruce Wayne shut down, leaving only one thing in his razer-sharp mind - getting his hands on the person responsible.

"Mr. Smith. Where is he? WHERE IS HE?"

The leader of the broken group of thugs stared at the colossal bat towering over him. "I never met him. We were contacted by a broker a few minutes ago."

Batman's rage ignited. Now there were brokers for this? How far into the pits of hell had has his city slipped? "Where do I find this broker?"

"The bartender. He's the broker!" the thug shouted, wanting nothing more than to get as far away as possible from the enraged beast above him.

Batman spun around, his cape flying out behind him. He found the bartender seated in the gutter waiting for the fight to end. Batman dragged the man to his feet and slammed him into a wall. He said nothing, but the glare that rained down on this pathetic example of the human race said all that was needed.

"Mr. Smith comes into the bar every now and then. He rang me tonight saying you were coming. Asked me to arrange a welcoming committee." The words gushed from the broker in a burst.

"Who... is... he?" Each word was laced with individual venom.

"He's crazy! He'll kill me if I tell you. I..." Batman tightened his grip. "Two-Face!" the broker whimpered. Batman allowed the thug to slide to the ground, his brow furrowing with surprise and abhorrence.

"Two-Face." Two Face was behind all of this? Harvey Dent wanted Bruce Wayne dead?

VVVVVVVVVV

As Dick watched, Bruce's face darkened. "He knows," Dick muttered. "He knows it's Harvey Dent."

"That he does."

For several moments Dick stood staring back toward Bruce. Without warning, he spun around and tried to pick up the oars, but he couldn't shift them.

"It's too late, son, I'm sorry." Dick glared at the oarsman. "Try to forget them and think about where you are headed. Your family is waiting."

"Exactly and I've got to get back to them." Dick glanced at the water.

"No. That is not the path back. The Lake of Lost Souls leads nowhere."

"You sure about that?"

"No one has ever been able to get to either side by attempting to swim it unaccompanied." The oarsman could see that his warnings were falling on deaf ears. "You can't make it alone."

"I won't be alone." The words were said with certainty.

Dick took one last look at his parents. They seemed to understand and nodded their blessing. The Waynes were smiling too. Not the false smiles of earlier, real smiles. Dick's eyes were drawn to Jason. The youth nodded.

Before the oarsman could say anything, Dick Grayson hurled himself into the crystal clear water.

VVVVVVVVVV

Three nurses rushed into Dick's ward. Leslie started calling instructions. She turned to Dick's family and paused briefly. "You need to step outside."

Tim took the back of Barbara's chair and began to wheel her toward the door, both of their eyes still trained on Dick.

Alfred remained steadfast. "What's happening?"

"Alfred, please," Leslie pleaded, trying to usher him toward the door.

"I am not moving from this spot unless you tell me..."

"His blood pressure is dropping dramatically. If I don't stop it, he'll go into cardiac arrest. Now, please."

Alfred swallowed and his eyes grabbed the doctor's. "Don't let him die, Leslie. We'll lose both of them if you do."

Leslie stared at him.. "You think I don't know that?" They stared at each other and immediate apologies were silently broadcast.

Alfred walked across to the bed, ignoring the nurses who were pumping drugs into the tubes attached to Dick. The elderly man leaned down close to his failing grandson's ear. "Easy, Dick, I'm here. You aren't on your own, son. You aren't alone."

VVVVVVVVVV

The icy cold depths swallowed Dick. At first his arms and legs refused to work. Alfred? Bruce! Those thoughts sent Dick surging to the surface. As his head broke the lake he gasped for breath and tried to get his bearings. His parents were only a few feet away. Bruce, Alfred and the others were miles. Dick knew where he belonged and he was prepared to sacrifice everything in his attempt to return to where he should never have left.

VVVVVVVVVV

**Leslie finally prised Dick free of Alfred and sent the latter outside. The elderly man sat down, his hands clenched so tightly in his lap that his knuckles were white. Tim walked across, crouched down in front of him and laid his hand over Alfred's.**

**"You okay?"**

**Alfred nodded. "Yes."**

**"Would you like a coffee or something?" Tim asked. Alfred didn't look well. Despite his obvious efforts to maintain a calm exterior, the deep lines of anxiety criss-crossed his face.**

**"No, thank you, Tim." Alfred glanced across at Barbara who was staring out into space. "Perhaps Miss Barbara would like one?"**

**"He'll make it, Alfred. I've never met a fighter like Dick. I don't care what Leslie says, he's fighting. I know he is."**

**Alfred forced a smile. "Of course he is."**

**At that moment Leslie appeared in the doorway. Alfred, Barbara and Tim's heads snapped towards her.**

**Leslie's face was void of all emotion. "Get Bruce here," she snapped before turning and racing back into the room. Those three words said more than any explanation of Dick's condition.**

**Barbara gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. Alfred sat frozen, unable to even think.**

**Tim's rate of breathing began to increase. They all knew what this meant. Dick was dying and Leslie didn't want the young man to pass away before Bruce had a chance to say goodbye.**

**"His communicator's off," Alfred cried, breaking free of the horror and leaping to his feet. "I can't contact him. I..."**

**"I'll contact him," Tim assured. "I'll get through to him, Alfred. I give you my word, I'll get him here!"Tim raced toward the elevator. The doors opened to reveal Commissioner Gordon. **

**"Daddy!" Barbara cried.**

**Jim Gordon ran to his distressed daughter. "He... He's..." She began to cry, burying her face into her father's chest as he knelt down and put his arms around her.**

**"Shhh. Baby." Jim looked up at Alfred. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize his condition was so serious." Jim returned his attention to his sobbing daughter. "Shhhh."**

**"Oh, daddy. He... I... Oh, God. I love him, dad. I'm... in... love... him."**

**Jim smiled at his little girl. "I know that. I've know that for some time."**

**"But I've never told him! He doesn't know," Barbara wept.**

**"Of course he does. I've seen the way he looks at you. Why do you think I always carry my revolver when he's around trying to poach my little girl?"**

**Barbara stared up at her father through the tears. "What am I going to do?"**

**Jim's smile disappeared and he pulled his daughter into his arms. "We just have to hope.. and pray."**

VVVVVVVVVV

Tim found an empty ward, raced inside and closed the door behind him. He dialled Bruce's number but received the automated message stating that Batman's communicator was switched off. The youth slung his backpack to the ground and withdrew his Robin belt. In the very centre was the newly installed emergency button. He was only allowed to use it in the most dire emergency. This qualified. Tim depressed the button and held it down, the essential signal sent.

VVVVVVVVVV

The minutes dragged by as Dick pulled himself back toward his friends and family. Every stroke was harder than the last. Where were they? He couldn't see any of them except Leslie. Leslie was still standing at the water's edge, both arms now outstretched.

"Dick, you can't, son," the oarsman cried. "Your friends are no longer there, lad. They have other things that they must do. Life goes on."

"Shut up!"

"They are no longer there waiting for you. They've given up."

"No they haven't. They're still there. I know they are. I have to get back to help them."

"Lad, you are a good man. One of the best I have ever met. I am not supposed to help you, but please, take my hand and I will pull you back into the boat and take you to your parents." The oarsman leaned over the edge of the small craft.

"No! I have got to get back to them. I can't leave them."

The oarsman shook his head sadly. "You do not deserve this fate. Are they really worthy of your loyalty?"

"Yes," Dick stated with absolute certainty.

"You are making a hell of a sacrifice. This battle you have selected for yourself has never been won before. You could be condemning yourself to an endless eternity of nothingness for them."

"They would do the same for me." Again the words echoed his unshakable faith in his companions.

"Then I wish you luck." With that, the oarsman and the boat faded away.

Dick found himself alone in the middle of an expansive lake, halfway between one world and the next.

VVVVVVVVVV

Batman kicked in the door of the penthouse apartment. Two-Face spun around, the side of his face that was still capable of showing emotions, reflecting his surprise.

"Batman!"

"We need to talk, Harvey!" Batman ground out. The Dark Knight strode into the room. Dent's three bodyguards attacked, but Batman brushed them aside without losing his stride. He was on a mission tonight and nothing and no one would stop him from putting Two-Face behind bars.

"This has nothing to do with you, Batman. This is between me and that pretty boy, Bruce Wayne."

"Wrong," Batman growled. Two-Face began to back away. He'd come across Batman many times, but he'd never seen the Dark Knight like this. There was revenge written across his face. Two-Face recognised the emotion... it was the one he saw in the mirror every morning.

Abruptly, Batman froze. He glanced down at his belt. A small red light was flashing. Immediately, he pressed it. "Robin?"

"Batman... you've got to come now. And I mean now."

Batman frowned. "That button is for emergencies only," he snapped.

For several moments there was silence.

Two-Face stared at Batman, watching in fascination as the crimefighter appeared to speak to himself. The mini receiver hidden in the Dark Knight's cowl audible to Batman alone.

"I know that. Batman, it's Nightwing. Leslie says you better come now."

"Now?" Batman murmured. His emotions began to bubble. Unable to keep the other half of himself at bay, he allowed it to surface and the pain returned. Torn, he stared at Two-Face. _Get him. _That had been his partner's request. Getting his revenge for Nightwing was more important than anything... wasn't it?

"Once I have dealt with Two-Face, I'll..."

"Dammit, Bruce. Isn't Dick more important?!" Tim shouted.

Batman blinked. _Dick? _An image of the young man filled Bruce's mind. "What's happened?"

"He's... I don't know if he's going to make it." Tim's voice was horribly distorted as he fought the tears back. "You've got to come, Bruce. Please."

Batman spun around without giving Two-Face a second look. He raced to the Batmobile and leapt into it cursing. He should have listened to his gut earlier - hours ago when he had first had that twinge. Dick was in trouble. He'd known that. Sensed it... but he'd tried to ignore it. For what purpose? _Dammit, Bruce. Isn't Dick more important?! _Bruce's chest constricted. "Yes," he answered aloud.

Bruce swallowed and gripped the steering wheel with trembling hands.

Don't die on me, Dick!

FINAL PART COMING SOON 

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought. 

**© June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


	10. Chapter 10

**LAKE OF LOST SOULS   
  
**__

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters. Nightwing and all of his friends belongs to DC comics. I'd be a happy woman if Dick belonged to me...but no such luck. I have not made any profit out of writing this, so please don't sue me. It would not be worth your while.

__

Author Comment: This was the third Dick Grayson story I ever wrote. Thank you to my wonderful beta, Jean whose comments force me to examine my writing. There are a number of spelling, grammar and punctuation differences between Australia and the USA... please forgive me for writing with an accent. (g)  
  
_**WARNING**_: I have nooooo medical knowledge. There are likely to be inaccuracies in this story. I hope you can enjoy it despite this.   
  


THIS STORY IS NOT A DEATHFIC. So relax and trust me. (g) 

  
  
__

Special Thanks: I just want to let the following people know how much I appreciate the support, encouragement and constructive comments you have sent me. I'm in your debt....**  
  
Trecebo.... ghostninja85.... Jill.... Becky.... Ivy3.... Jenihenpen.... Fortex.... annie.... Esther-Channah.... Jenn11.... comesan.... AssassinGalaxia.... DCgirl.... Anon.... Richiefic.... Herself.... Njong.... Ivy.... Swiss Army Knife.... Snaggle.... Shaindl.... BBfan.... noname.... JosiahGirl.... aniki19.... Slea.... Bear the Cutie.... naneth.... Eldricht.... Bart.... Bumpkin...**.   
  
Some of you I have been able to send personal thank yous. Others I haven't because I didn't have an e-mail address. Thank you to each and every one of you for sharing this adventure with me. I hope we can share many more.

* * *

**Part TEN - FINAL **

Dick felt exhausted. He was no longer moving forward as easily. The current that he had been fighting against felt stronger as it pushed against his weary body trying, not to drag him back, but down. Dick knew that if he stopped fighting now, he would sink to the bottom of the lake and remain there with all of the other lost souls. Blinking, he searched the shoreline. Alfred, Tim and Barbara had returned just as he knew they would. They no longer only had their arms outstretched, they were leaning out over the water trying to reach him.

"I'm trying, guys. I'm trying."

Time stopped having any meaning as Dick dragged his body through the sludge, for it was no longer water. His head was aching and his chest burning, his injuries becoming more prominent the closer he got to his family. The exhausted young man was just starting to consider that maybe he wasn't going to make it, when he caught sight of Bruce's face. The other man's blue eyes captured his attention completely.

Hang on, Son. I'm coming! __

"You better hurry, Bruce, because I'm getting real tired."

vvvvvvvvvv

There was a crowd collected around the bottom of the stairs of the hospital. Most were reporters who were being kept at bay by Gordon's finest.

Bruce Wayne leapt from his Jaguar. The men and woman of the press parted as he rocketed through them, the millionaire only barely aware of their flashing cameras and shouted questions.

vvvvvvvvvv

Dick was only feet from the bank. He'd made it this far. He reached his hand out, his friends leaning as far over the water as they could, but the gap was insurmountable. Exhausted, Dick recognized that he had lost the battle. He was so close, but the throbbing in his head and the burning of his chest made it impossible for him take another stroke. Completely depleted of energy, Dick was forced to give up his fight and unexpectedly he found himself being pulled down into the painless liquid that surrounded him. As he sank, he tried to find Bruce so he could apologize. It was as he was being pulled down that Dick noted Wayne had stepped up to the bank beside the others.

vvvvvvvvvv

Dick had been placed on full life-support, a pump now forcing his heart to beat. Alfred stood, tears trailing down his cheeks as he watched his grandson's brain activity on the EEG slow and finally stop.

He was gone.

Barbara's heartfelt sob filled the room. Tim dropped his face. Alfred blinked and as he reached out to brush Dick's hair from his brow, Bruce burst through the door. No one looked up.

"He's gone, Bruce," Leslie whispered. "Only seconds ago. I'm sorry." The life-support machines continued to beep and pump, forcing Dick's body to continue functioning, but his brain was no longer functioning.

Wayne glared at the doctor as he strode forward. He wasn't prepared to believe that. He and Dick had a connection... one he'd never realized was there before. One that explained the reason for Batman and Nighwing's extraordinary understanding. Quite simply, their souls were linked. Common tragedies were only part of it. Love was the rest. Bruce stared down at his _son's _silent face... his son? Yes, his son... and he could still feel the connection. Dick wasn't gone!

Wayne stepped forward, a lump the size of a fist forming in this throat. "You aren't dying on me, Dick. I'm not giving up on you!"

vvvvvvvvvv

As the Lake of Lost Souls sucked Dick down, the young man spotted _Bruce walking toward him - but Bruce didn't stop at the water's edge, he kept walking. Wayne did not fear the loss of his soul and he was more than prepared to sacrifice it and anything else for Dick. Bruce waded down into the lake until the water was above his waist. He reached out for Dick's hand, but the lake recognized the soul that had entered it and began tugging at Wayne. It had once owned this man's soul... some fifteen years earlier... and it would re-claim it._

vvvvvvvvvv

"Bruce?" Alfred asked. Wayne's breathing had started to become ragged. Clearly, the shock of losing Dick was tearing Bruce apart - yanking the very soul out of him, just as Alfred knew it would. "Bruce?" Alfred reached for his son's shoulder.

vvvvvvvvvv

Alfred waded out to Bruce and grabbed the back of the tormented man's shirt. Tim followed him and grabbed Alfred. One by one the others entered the Lake of Lost Souls, all of them willing to give up their life and soul for one another. Leslie anchored them on shore, her faith in Dick's ability to do the impossible holding them firmly in place.

vvvvvvvvvv

Dick Grayson's family had formed a tight chain of defence around their lost member. The atmosphere in the intensive care ward had become thick and passionate.

Shoulders touching, the five tried to draw strength from one another and feed it to Dick.

Bruce's breathing came under control and slowly he reached for Dick's hand.

vvvvvvvvvv

No longer needing to battle the current thanks to the support and strength given to him by his family, Bruce leant forward, his arm extending toward Dick as his son was dragged below the surface. Bruce and Dick's fingers brushed momentarily.

vvvvvvvvvv

"He isn't gone," Bruce whispered. "Come back to us, Dick." Bruce's fingers encircled Dick's hand.

vvvvvvvvvv

As Dick felt himself drawn below the surface, Bruce's hand closed around his fist. The moment the connection was made...

The EEG began beeping again after almost twenty seconds of silence. Tim, Alfred, Leslie and Barbara gasped. As they watched stunned, Dick's chest heaved. His eyes fluttered and then opened a quarter of an inch.

Bruce nodded a greeting to the young man who was staring up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Unlike the others, who had been willing to accept Dick's passing, Bruce had been certain that Dick's life wasn't gone. Why? He'd just known._ Felt _it - just as he had sensed that there was something wrong earlier. Bruce Wayne did not believe in anything he couldn't see, but he could not deny the connection he and his son shared.

Bruce squeezed Dick's hand. The slightest trace of a smile appeared on Dick's ashen face. He tried to speak, but the tube down his throat made it almost impossible. Almost, but not quite. The words were weak and virtually unintelligible, but Bruce understood. "I made it."

Wayne nodded. "We both did." A lump materialized in Bruce's throat and tears formed, but didn't fall. _Dick, I... you mean... you are..._

The half smile reappeared. Dick could read the message on Bruce's confused and emotional face. _Yeah, I know._ The words themselves weren't necessary. Dick understood... he always had.

Around them, Leslie and a team of nurses began to fidget and fiddle. Alfred and the others were ushered out of the room, but Bruce didn't move. Dick's eyes closed, but as they did, Bruce felt his son squeeze his hand.

"I'm right here, Dick. I'm not going anywhere." Dick's headed bobbed ever so slightly and then he slipped back into the world of unconsciousness. Bruce looked across at Leslie, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "He's going to be alright. " It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.

Leslie swallowed.. "It's too early to tell. He... I mean... he was gone, Bruce."

Bruce shook his head. "No, he wasn't."

"Bruce, I still don't know if he is going to make it," she warned, not wanting him to get his hopes up.

"I do. He's decided to live. Nothing will take him now," Bruce stated.

Leslie stared at him and gradually her face relaxed. "Perhaps. But if he does make it, it isn't going to be easy. He's been through so much."

"I'll take him home as soon as I can. We'll get him back on his feet, Alfred and I."

Leslie walked across and kissed Bruce on the cheek. "I'm sure you will."

Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed, running his hand through Dick's hair with great affection. He couldn't fathom the distance that had grown between them - a distance that had left him viewing his relationship with Nightwing as more important and substantial than the one between father and son. He had pursued a faceless villain because Nightwing had asked him to, rather than being at his son's side. How could he have allowed his relationship with Dick to be eroded so badly?

Bruce knew that ninety percent of it was his fault. Dick had tried so many times, he realized now, looking back. It was time he and his son repaired their relationship. It wasn't going to be easy. They had a lot to overcome... a long way to go, but the barrier was gone; obliterated by the realization that they needed each other. Bruce slid his arm under his son and scooped him into his arms.

Two nurses darted forward, but Leslie held them back, tears of joy washing down her cheeks.

Bruce held his boy tightly but with great care. He'd almost lost him. He'd almost _let _him slip away. Silently, Bruce Wayne made a pledge - he was determined to make things work between them.

The bitterness and confusion that had littered Bruce's world for so long vanished in that single moment.

vvvvvvvvvv

Dick found himself standing on the bank being flanked by his family. Out of the mist appeared the oarsman in his small wooden boat. The old man was smiling.

"Congratulations. You were right. You do have something to live for." The old man glanced at Dick's companions. "I stand corrected. Not some thing, someone. Five someones."

"I know."

The oarsman became serious. "You had great faith in him. You knew that he wouldn't let you drown - that he would enter the Lake to save you even if it meant losing his own soul in the process."

"Yep."

"How did you know?"

"I would have done the same for him."

The elderly man nodded. "Two souls connected by a single binding force. Such loyalty and love is rare."

"I know."

"Until we meet again, Dick. Your parents send their love and the Waynes send their thanks."

Dick grinned. "Thank you."

"You won't remember any of this when you wake. May God bless you."

Dick glanced at Bruce, who was standing beside him, and then at the others who were collected together, a half a pace back. "He already has."

vvvvvvvvvv

An hour later, Leslie appeared in the waiting room and informed the rest of Dick's family that his condition was still serious, but that he was stable, off life support and that she was fairly confident that he was out of danger. The relief was palpable. Tim grabbed Barbara and spun her around.

"Do you mind?!" Oracle snapped, but she was laughing.

Leslie smiled at Alfred and invited him to go back into Dick's room. Once they reached the intensive care ward, Alfred followed the inclination of the doctor's head. He stared at Bruce who held Dick in his arms. All that the elderly man had prayed for over the past eight years had just been granted.

"For the last hour," Leslie informed the butler. For the last hour, Bruce had supported his son. He wanted Dick to know he was there... that he would always be there.

Leslie and Alfred stood silently, not wanting to interrupt the private moment. Out of nowhere, Tim appeared.

"Bruce, I've just heard on the radio that Two-Face..."

"Stuff Two-Face," Bruce interrupted.

"Huh?" Tim stuttered, his eyes literally popping at the response.

"I said, stuff Two-Face. I'm needed here."

Tim glanced at Alfred and then back to Bruce. "Oooookkkaaaayyyyyy. I'll... yeah. Well... okay." Stunned, he backed out of the room.

Bruce sighed, lowered Dick back onto the pillow and took a seat on the chair beside the bed. Alfred walked across and slipped his arm across Bruce's shoulders.

"He's going to be alright, Alfred."

Alfred Pennyworth nodded. In Bruce's face he could see the distinct change. The distance between Alfred's charges was gone. Bruce had finally realized that in pushing Dick away he had abandoned his soul in an abyss of emptiness, but The Lake of Lost Souls would never claim Bruce Wayne again because from now on he wouldn't allow anything to come between him and his boy.

Alfred patted Bruce's back as Wayne repeated, "Everything is going to fine, Alfred."

A smile from Alfred's soul lit up the entire room. "I do believe you are right, son. I do believe you are right."

In a very distant place, on the shores of the Lake of Lost Souls, two sets of parents smiled.

vvvvvvvvvv

Stay tuned for the sequel...Dick's recovery; Bruce's determination to repair his relationship with his son; Barbara faces her realization... _and Two-Face tries again!_

* * *

I would really love to know what you thought. 

**© June 2004 Aussie Nightwriter. : This relates only to the creative property in this story. The distinctive way the story unfolds, the specific dialogue and unique situations are mine. I acknowledge that some of the characters and settings belong to DC comics. (g) No infrigement of copyright was intended and no profit has been made from this story... so, please don't sue me. It wouldn't be worth your while.**


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